A 
A: 


fe».rSV2- 


!»  11- 


Every  Number 
Conrolete. 


ocnes.    t\ 


By  Wm.  M.  THACKEEAY 

FROM  THE  CONEIIILL  MAGAZINE. 


!S'  TWENTY-FIVE  CENT  SERIAL 


No.  I. 

n-»  »♦ 


) 


NEW    YORK: 
ES-O.    NOYES,    PUBLISHES, 


2  5     HOWARD     STREET. 


I860. 


The  Trade  supplied  by  the  Whol      '  ■  A/jents 


i. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/fourgeorgessketcOOthac 


THE  FOUR  GEORGES : 


SKETCHES     OF     MANNERS,     MORALS, 
COURT    AND    TOWN    LIFE. 


BY 

WILLIAM   M.   THACKERAY. 


WITH    AN    ILLUSTRATION, 


NEW    YORK: 
JAMES     0.    NOYES,    PUBLISHER, 

26     nOWARD     STREET 
18  6  0. 


NOTES'    SERIALS. 


8(DW    It&iDf 


Nc.   I.-T  HE      FOUR      GEORGES. 

Sketches  of  Manners,  Morals,  Court  and  Town  Life. 
By  "Wit  2L   Thackeray. 

No.  II.-MEMOIRS  OF  A  NULLIFIER. 

An  Inimitable  Burlesque  on  Yankeedom.    With  a  Historical  Sketch 
of  Nullification  in  1832  and  1833. 

No.    III.— A    YANKEE    AMONG    THE 
NULLIFIERS. 

A  Cutting   Satire  on  Secession. 


Every  Number  complete.  Price,  paper  covers,  10  cents ;  enameled 
boards,  25  cents.     Mailed,  postage  free,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 

The  object  of  the  Serials  is  to  furnish,  semi-monthly,  in  a  cheap  and 
popular  form,  Original  Stories,  Sketches,  &c,  with  the  best  productions 
of  current  literature.     Published  on  the  10th  and  25th  of  each  month 

JAMES  0.  NOYES,  25  Howard-st,  N.  Y* 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1860,  by 

JAMES     O.    NOYES, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 

I>j?.rict  of  New  York. 


GEORGE    THE    FIRST. 


A  VERY- few  years  since 
I  knew  familiarly  a 
lady  who  had  been  asked 
in  marriage  by  Horace  Wal- 
pole ;  who  had  been  patted 
on  the  head  by  George  I. 
This  lady  had  knocked  at 
Johnson's  door,  had  been  in- 
timate with  Fox,  the  beauti- 
ful Georgina  of  Devonshire, 
and  that  brilliant  Whig  so- 
ciety of  the  reign  of  George 
III. ;  had  known  the  Duch- 
ess of  Queensberry,  the  patroness  of  Gay  and  Prior,  the  admired 
young  beauty  of  the  court  of  Queen  Anne.  I  often  thought,  as  I 
took  my  kind  old  friend's  hand,  how  with  it  I  held  on  to  the  old  so- 
ciety of  wits  and  men  of  the  world.  I  could  travel  back  for  seven 
score  years  of  time — have  glimpses  of  Brummell,  Selwyn,  Chester- 
field, and  the  men  of  pleasure  ;  of  Walpole  and  Conway  ;  of  John- 
son, Reynolds,  Goldsmith;  of  North,  Chatham,  Newcastle;  of  the 
fair  maids  of  honor  of  George  II. 's  court ;  of  the  German  retain- 
ers of  George  I.'s ;  where  Addison  was  Secretary  of  State  ; 
where  Dick  Steele  held  a  place ;  whither  the  great  Marlborough 
came  with  his  fiery  spouse ;  when  Pope,  and  Swift,  and  Boling- 
broke  yet  lived  and  wrote.  Of  a  society  so  vast,  busy,  brilliant, 
it  is  impossible  in  four  brief  chapters  to  give  a  complete  notion ; 
but  we  may  peep  here  and  there  into  that  by-gone  world  of  th<? 
Ge  trpfes,  see  what  they  and  their  courts  were  like ;  gl«<i<v  xi 
tlu-  piK'phs  lound  about  them;  look  at  past  manner?,  itiaaiofl^ 
pleasures,  and  contrast  them  with  our  own.     I  have  to  say  thus 


4  THE    FOUR    GEORGES. 

much  by  way  of  preface,  because  the  subject  of  these  lectures 
has  been  misunderstood,  and  I  have  been  taken  to  task  for  not 
having  given  grave  historical  treatises,  which  it  was  never  my 
intention  to  attempt.  Not  about  battles,  about  politics,  about 
statesmen  and  measures  of  state,  did  I  ever  think  to  lecture  you  : 
but  to  sketch  the  manners  and  life  of  the  Old  World  ;  to  amuse 
for  a  few  hours  with  talk  about  the  old  society ;  and,  with  the 
result  of  many  a  day's  and  night's  pleasant  reading,  to  try  and 
while  away  a  few  winter  evenings  for  my  hearers. 

Among  the  German  princes  who  sate  under  L  ither  at  Witten- 
berg was  Duke  Ernest  of  Celle,  whose  younger  son,  William  of 
Liineberg,  was  the  progenitor  of  the  illustrious  Hanoverian  House 
at  present  reigning  in  Great  Britain.  Duke  William  held  his 
court  at  Celle,  a  little  town  of  ten  thousand  people  that  lies  on 
the  railway  line  between  Hamburg  and  Hanover,  in  the  midst 
of  great  plains  of  sand,  upon  the  River  Aller.  When  Duke 
William  had  it,  it  was  a  very  humble  wood-built  place,  with  a 
great  brick  church,  which  he  sedulously  frequented,  and  in  which 
h*  and  others  of  his  House  lie  buried.  He  was  a  very  religious 
lord,  and  called  William  the  Pious  by  his  small  circle  of  subjects, 
over,  whom  he  ruled  till  fate  deprived  him  both  of  sight  and 
reason.  Sometimes,  in  his  latter  days,  the  good  Duke  had 
glimpses  of  mental  light,  when  he  would  bid  lus  musicians  play 
the  psalm-tunes  which  he  loved.  One  thinks  of  a  descendant  of 
his,  two  hundred  years  afterward,  blind,  old,  and  lost  of  wits, 
singing  Handel  in  Windsor  Tower. 

William  the  Pious  had  fifteen  children,  eight  daughters  and 
seven  sons,  who,  as  the  property  left  among  them  was  small, 
drew  lots  to  determine  which  one  of  them  should  marry  and 
continue  the  stout  race  of  the  Guelphs.  The  lot  fell  on  Duke 
George,  the  sixth  brother.  The  others  remained  single,  or  con- 
tracted  left-handed  marriages,  after  the  princely  fashion  of  those 
days.  It  is  a  queer  picture — that  of  the  old  prince  dying  in  his 
little  wood-built  capital,  and  his  seven  sons  tossing  up  which 
should  inherit  and  transmit  the  crown  of  Brentford.  Duke 
George,  the  lucky  prize-man,  made  the  tour  of  Europe,  during 
which  he  visited  the  court  of  Queen  Elizabeth ;  and  in  the  year 
1617  came  back  and  settled  at  Zell,  with  a  wife  out  of  Darm- 
stadt. His  remaining  brothers  all  kept  their  house  at  Zell,  for 
economy's*  sake.     And  presently,  in  due  course,  they  all  died— 


GEORGE   THE    FIRST.  5 

all  the  honest  dukes ;  Ernest,  and  Christian,  and  Augustus,  and 
Magnus,  and  George,  and  John — and  they  are  buried  in  the 
brick  church  of  Brentford  yonder,  by  the  sandy  banks  of  the 
Aller. 

Dr.  Vehse  gives  a  pleasant  glimpse  of  the  way  of  life  of  our 
dukes  in  Zell.  "  When  the  trumpeter  on  the  tower  has  blown," 
Duke  Christian  orders — viz.,  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  and 
four  in  the  evening  every  one  must  be  present  at  meals,  and 
those  who  are  not  must  go  without.  None  of  the  servants,  un- 
less it  be  a  knave  who  has  been  ordered  to  ride  out,  shall  eat  or 
drink  in  the  kitchen  or  cellar ;  or,  without  special  leave,  fodder 
his  horses  at  the  prince's  cost.  When  the  meal  is  served  in  the 
court-room,  a  page  shall  go  round  and  bid  every  one  be  quiet 
and  orderly,  forbidding  all  cursing,  swearing,  and  rudeness;  all 
throwing  about  of  bread,  bones,  or  roast,  or  pocketing  of  the 
same.  Every  morning,  at  seven,  the  squires  shall  have  their 
morning  soup,  along  with  which,  and  dinner,  they  shall  be 
served  with  their  under-drink — every  morning  except  Friday 
morning,  when  there  was  sermon,  and  no  drink.  Every  even- 
ing they  shall  have  their  beer,  and  at  night  their  sleep-drink. 
The  butler  is  especially  warned  not  to  allow  noble  or  simple  to 
go  into  the  cellar :  wine  shall  only  be  served  at  the  prince's  or 
councilor's  table;  and  every  Monday,  the  honest  old  Duke 
Christian  ordains  the  accounts  shall  be  ready,  and  the  expenses 
in  the  kitchen,  the  wine  and  beer  cellar,  the  bakehouse  and 
stable,  made  out. 

Duke  George,  the  marrying  duke,  did  not  stop  at  home  to  par- 
take of  the  beer  and  wine,  and  the  sermons.  He  went  about 
fighting  wherever  there  was  profit  to  be  had.  He  served  as 
general  in  the  army  of  the  circle  of  Lower  Saxony,  the  Protes- 
tant army ;  then  he  went  over  to  the  emperor  and  fought  in  his 
armies  in  Germany  and  Italy ;  and  when  Gustavus  Adolphus 
appeared  in  Germany,  George  took  service  as  a  Swedish  general, 
and  seized  the  Abbey  of  Hildesheim  as  his  share  of  the  plunder. 
Here,  in  the  year  1641,  Duke  George  died,  leaving  four  sons 
behind  him,  from  the  youngest  of  whom  descend  our  royal 
Georges. 

Under  these  children  of  Duke  George,  the  old  God-fearing, 
simple  ways  of  Zell  appear  to  have  gone  out  of  mode.  Th* 
second  brother  was  constantly  visiting  Venice,   and  leading  a 


6  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

jolly,  wicked  life  there.  It  was  the  most  jovial  of  all  places  at 
the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century :  and  military  men,  after  a 
campaign,  rushed  thither,  as  the  warriors  of  the  Allies  rushed  to 
Paris  in  1814,  to  gamble,  and  rejoice,  and  partake  of  all  sorts  of 
godless  delights.  This  prince,  then,  loving  Venice  and  its 
pleasures,  brought  Italian  singers  and  dancers  back  with  him  to 
quiet  old  Zell ;  and,  worse  still,  demeaned  himself  by  marrying  a 
French  lady  of  birth  quite  inferior  to  his  own — Eleanor  D'01- 
breuse,  from  whom  our  queen  is  descended.  Eleanor  had  a 
pretty  daughter,  who  inherited  a  great  fortune,  which  inflamed 
her  cousin,  George  Louis  of  Hanover,  with  a  desire  to  marry  her ; 
and  so,  with  her  beauty  and  her  riches,  she  came  to  a  sad  end. 

It  is  too  long  to  tell  how  the  four  sons  of  Duke  George  divided 
his  territories  among  them,  and  how,  finally,  they  came  into  pos- 
session of  the  son  of  the  youngest  of  the  four.  In  this  genera- 
tion the  Protestant  faith  was  very  nearly  extinguished  in  the 
family :  and  then  where  should  we  in  England  have  gone  for  a 
king  ?  The  third  brother  also  took  delight  in  Italy,  where  the 
priests  converted  him  and  his  Protestant  chaplain  too.  Mass 
was  said  in  Hanover  once  more ;  and  Italian  soprani  piped  their 
Latin  rhymes  in  place  of  the  hymns  which  William  the  Pious 
and  Dr.  Luther  sang.  Louis  XIV.  gave  this  and  other  converts 
a  splendid  pension.  Crowds  of  Frenchmen  and  brilliant  French 
fashions  came  into  his  court.  It  is  incalculable  how  much  that 
royal  bigwig  cost  Germany.  Every  prince  imitated  the  French 
king,  and  had  his  Versailles,  his  Wilhelmshohe  or  Ludwigslust ; 
his  court  and  its  splendors ;  his  gardens  laid  out  with  statues ; 
his  fountains,  and  water-works,  and  Tritons;  his  actors,  and 
dancers,  and  singers,  and  fiddlers  ;  his  harem,  with  its  inhabit- 
ants ;  his  diamonds  and  duchies  for  these  latter ;  his  enormous 
festivities,  his  gaming-tables,  tournaments,  masquerades,  and 
banquets  lasting  a  week  long,  for  which  the  people  paid  with 
their  money,  when  the  poor  wretches  had  it — with  their  bodies 
and  very  blood  when  they  had  none  ;  being  sold  in  thousands 
by  their  lords  and  masters,  who  gayly  dealt  in  soldiers,  staked  a 
regiment  upon  the  red  at  the  gambling  table  ;  swapped  a  batr- 
talion  against  a  dancing-girl's  diamond  necklace  ;  and,  as  it  were, 
pocketed  their  people. 

As  one  views  Europe  through  contemporary  books  of  travel 
in  11  o  ftarly  part  of  last  century,  the  landscape  is  awful — wretched 


GEORGE   THE   FIRST.  7 

wastes,  beggarly  and  plundered  ;  half-burned  cottages  and  trem- 
bling peasants  gathering  piteous  harvests  ;  gangs  of  such  tramp- 

ng  along  with  bayonets  behind  them,  and  corporals  with  canes 
and  cats-of-nine-tails  to  flog  them  to  barracks.     By  these  passes 
my  lord's  gilt  carriage  floundering  through  the  ruts,  as  he  swears 
at  the  postillions,  and  toils  on  to  the  Residenz.     Hard  by,  but 
away  from  the  noise  and  brawling  of  the  citizens  and  buyers,  is 
Wilhelmslust,   or  Ludwigsruhe,  or  Monbijou,   or  Versailles — it 
scarcely  matters  which — near  to  the  city,  shut  out  by  woods 
from  the  beggared  country,  the  enormous,  hideous,  gilded,  mon- 
strous marble  palace,  where  the  prince  is,  and  the  court,  and  the 
trim  gardens,  and  huge  fountains,  and  the  forest  where  the  rag- 
ged peasants   are  beating  the   game  in  (it  is  death  to  them  to 
touch  a  feather) ;  and  the  jolly  hunt  sweeps  by  with  its  uniform 
of  crimson  and  gold ;  and  the  prince   gallops  ahead,  puffing  his 
royal  horn;  and  his  lords  and  mistresses  ride  after  him  ;  and  the 
stag  is  pulled  down  ;  and  the  grand  huntsman  gives  the  knife  in 
the  midst  of  a  chorus  of  bugles,  and  'tis  time  the  court  go  home 
to  dinner ;  and  our  noble  traveler,  it  may  be  the  Baron  of  P611- 
nitz,  or  the  Count  de  Konigsmarck,  or  the  excellent  Chevalier  de 
Seingalt,  sees  the  procession  gleaming  through  the  trim  avenues 
of  the  wood,  and  hastens  to  the  inn,  and  sends  his  noble  name 
to  the  marshal  of  the  court.     Then  our  nobleman  arrays  himself 
in  green  and  gold,  or  pink  and  silver,  in  the  richest  Paris  mode, 
and  is  introduced  by  the  chamberlain,  and  makes  his  bow  to  the 
jolly  prince  and  the  gracious  princess:  is  presented  to  the  chief 
lords  and  ladies,  and  then  comes  supper  and  a  bank  at  faro, 
where  he  loses  or  wins  a  thousand  pieces  by  daylight.     If  it  is  a 
German  court,  you  may  add  not  a  little  drunkenness  to  this  pic- 
ture of  high  life  ;  but  German,  or  French,  or  Spanish,  if  you  can 
see  out  of  your  palace-windows  beyond  the  trim-cut  forest  vis- 
tas, misery  is  lying  outside ;  hunger  is  stalking  about  the  bare 
villages,  listlessly  following  precarious  husbandry ;  plowing  stony 
fields  with  starved  cattle ;  or  fearfully  taking  in  scanty  harvests. 
Augustus  is  fat  and  jolly  on  his  throne ;  he  can  knock  down  an 
ox,  and  eat  one  almost ;  his  mistress,  Aurora  Von  Konigsmarck, 
is  the  loveliest,  the  wittiest  creature ;  his  diamonds  are  the  big- 
gest and  most  brilliant  in  the  world,  and  his  feasts  as  splendid 
as  those  of  Versailles.     As  for  Louis  the  Great,  he  is  more  than 
mortal.     Lift  up  your  glances  respectfully,  and  mark  him  evomg 


8  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

Madame  de  Fontanges  ot  Madame  de  Montespan  from  under  his 
sublime  periwig,  as  he  passes  through  the  great  gallery  where 
Villars,  and  Vendome,  and  Berwick,  and  Bossuet,  and  Massillon 
are  waiting.  Can  court  be  more  splendid  ;  nobles  and  knights 
more  gallant  and  superb  ;  ladies  more  lovely  ?  A  grander  mon- 
arch, or  a  more  miserable,  starved  wretch  than  the  peasant  his 
subject  you  can  not  look  on.  Let  us  bear  both  these  types  in 
mind,  if  we  wish  to  estimate  the  old  society  properly.  Remem- 
ber the  glory  and  the  chivalry  1  Yes !  Remember  the  grace 
and  beauty,  the  splendor  and  lofty  politeness ;  the  gallant  cour- 
tesy of  Fountenoy,  where  the  French  line  bids  the  gentlemen  of 
the  English  guard  to  fire  first ;  the  noble  constancy  of  the  old 
King  and  Villars,  his  general,  who  fits  out  the  last  army  with  the 
last  crown-piece  from  the  treasury,  and  goes  to  meet  the  enemy 
and  die  or  conquer  for  France  at  Denain.  But  round  all  that 
royal  splendor  lies  a  nation  enslaved  and  ruined ;  there  are  people 
robbed  of  their  rights  ;  communities  laid  waste ;  faith,  justice, 
commerce  trampled  upon,  and  well  nigh  destroyed ;  nay,  in  the 
very  center  of  royalty  itself,  what  horrible  stains  and  meanness, 
crime  and  shame  I  It  is  but  to  a  silly  harlot  that  some  of  the 
noblest  gentlemen,  and  some  of  the  proudest  women  in  the 
world,  are  bowing  down ;  it  is  the  price  of  a  miserable  province 
that  the  king  ties  in  diamonds  round  his  mistress's  white  neck. 
In  the  first  half  of  the  last  century,  I  say,  this  is  going  on  all 
Europe  over.  Saxony  is  a  waste,  as  well  as  Picardy  or  Artois  ; 
and  Versailles  is  only  larger  and  not  worse  than  Herrenhausen. 

It  was  the  first  Elector  of  Hanover  who  made  the  fortunate 
match  which  bestowed  the  race  of  Hanoverian  Sovereigns  upon 
us  Britons.  Nine  years  after  Charles  Stuart  lost  his  head,  his 
niece  Sophia,  one  of  many  children  of  another  luckless,  dethroned 
sovereign,  the  Elector  Palatine,  married  Ernest  Augustus  of 
Brunswick,  and  brought  the  reversion  to  the  crown  of  the  three 
kingdoms  in  her  scanty  trousseau.  One  of  the  handsomest,  the 
most  cheerful,  sensible,  shrewd,  accomplished  of  women  was 
Sophia,  daughter  of  poor  Frederick,  the  winter  King  of  Bohemia. 
The  other  daughters  of  lovely,  unhappy  Elizabeth  Stuart,  went 
off  into  the  Catholic  Church  ;  this  one,  luckily  for  her  family,  re- 
mained, I  can  not  say  faithful,  to  the  Reformed  Religion,  but  at 
least  she  adopted  no  other.  An.  agent  of  the  French  King's, 
Gourville,  a  convert  himself,  strove  to  bring  her  and  her  husband 


GEORGE   THE   FIRST.  9 

to  a  sense  of  the  truth ;  and  tells  us  that  he  one  day  asked 
Madame  the  Duchess  of  Hanover  of  what  religion  her  daughter 
vras,  tli en  a  pretty  girl  of  thirteen  years  old.  The  Duchess  re- 
plied that  the  princess  was  of  no  religion  as  yet.  They  were 
waiting  to  know  of  what  religion  her  husband  would  be,  Protes- 
tant or  Catholic,  before  instructing  her  !  And  the  Duke  of  Hano- 
ver, having  heard  all  Gourville's  proposal,  said  that  a  change 
would  be  advantageous  to  his  house,  but  that  he  himself  was  too 
old  to  change. 

This  shrewd  woman  had  such  keen  eyes  that  she  knew  how 
to  shut  them  upon  occasion,  and  was  blind  to  many  faults  which 
it  appeared  that  her  husband,  the  Bishop  of  Osnaburg  and  Duke 
of  Hanover,  committed.  He  loved  to  take  his  pleasure  like  other 
sovereigns — was  a  merry  prince,  fond  of  dinner  and  the  bottle ; 
liked  to  go  to  Italy,  as  his  brothers  had  done  before  him ;  and 
we  read  how  he  jovially  sold  sis  thousand  seven  hundred  of  his 
Hanoverians  to  the  seigniory  of  Venice.  They  went  bravely  off 
to  the  Morea,  under  command  of  Ernest's  son,  Prince  Max,  and 
only  one  thousand  four  hundred  of  them  ever  came  home  again. 
The  German  princes  sold  a  good  deal  of  this  kind  of  stock.  You 
may  remember  how  George  iH.'s  Government  purchased  Hes- 
sians, and  the  use  we  made  of  them  during  the  War  of'Independence. 

The  ducats  Duke  Ernest  got  for  his  soldiers  he  spent  in  a  series 
of  the  most  brilliant  entertainments.  Nevertheless,  the  jovial 
prince  was  economical,  and  kept  a  steady  eye  upon  his  own  in- 
terests. He  achieved  the  electoral  dignity  for  himself:  he  mar- 
ried his  eldest  son,  George,  to  his  beautiful  cousin  of  Zell ;  and 
sending  his  sons  out  in  command  of  armies  to  fight — now  on  this 
side,  now  on  that — he  lived  on,  taking  his  pleasure,  and  schem- 
ing his  sehemes,  a  merry,  wise  prince  enough;  not,  I  fear,  a 
moral  prince,  of  which  kind  we  shall  have  but  very  few  speci- 
mens in  the  course  of  these  lectures. 

Ernest  Augustus  had  seven  children  in  all,  some  of  whom 
were  scape-graces,  and  rebelled  against  the  parental  system  of ' 
primogeniture  and  non-division  of  property  which  the  Elector 
ordained.  "  Gustchen,"  the  Electress  writes  about  her  second 
son: — "Poor  Gus  is  thrust  out,  and  his  father  will  give  him  no 
more  keep.  I  laugh  in  the  day,  and  cry  all  night  about  it;  for  ] 
am  a  fool  with  my  children."  Three  of  the  six  died  fighting 
against  Turks,  Tartars,  Frenchmen.  One  of  them  conspired,  vv 
1* 


10  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

volted,  fled  to  Eome,  leaving  an  agent  behind  him,  whose  head 
was  taken  off.  The  daughter,  of  whose  early  education  we  have 
made  mention,  was  married  to  the  Elector  of  Brandenburg,  and 
so  her  religion  settled  finally  on  the  Protestant  side. 

A  niece  of  the  Electress  Sophia — who  had  been  made  to 
change  her  religion  and  marry  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  brother  of 
the  French  King;  a  woman  whose  honest  heart  was  always  with 
her  friends  and  dear  old  Deutschland,  though  her  fat  little  body 
was  confined  at  Paris,  or  Marly,  or  Versailles — has  left  us,  in  her 
enormous  correspondence  (part  of  which  has  been  printed  in 
German  and  French),  recollections  of  the  Electress,  and  of 
George,  her  son.  Elizabeth  Charlotte  was  at  Osnaburg  when 
George  was  born  (1660).  She  narrowly  escaped  a  whipping 
for  being  in  the  way  on  that  auspicious  day.  She  seems  not  to 
have  liked  little  George,  nor  George  grown  up  ;  and  represents 
him  as  odiously  hard,  cold,  and  silent.  Silent  he  may  have 
been:  not  a  jolly  prince  like  his  father  before  him,  but  a  prudent, 
quiet,  selfish  potentate,  going  his  own  way,  managing  his  own 
affairs,  and  understanding  his  own  interests  remarkably  well. 

In  his  father's  lifetime,  and  at  the  head  of  the  Hanover  forces  of 
eight  thousand  or  ten  thousand  men,  George  served  the  Emperor  on 
the  Danube  against  Turks,  at  the  siege  of  Vienna,  in  Italy,  and  on 
the  Rhine.  When  he  succeeded  to  the  Electorate  he  handled  its 
affairs  with  great  prudence  and  dexterity.  He  was  very  much 
liked  by  his  people  of  Hanover.  He  did  not  show  his  feelings 
much,  but  he  cried  heartily  on  leaving  them  ;  as  they  used  for 
joy  when  he  came  back.  He  showed  an  uncommon  prudence 
and  coolness  of  behavior  when  he  came  into  his  kingdom ;  ex- 
hibiting no  elation ;  reasonably  doubtful  whether  he  should  not 
be  turned  out  some  day  ;  looking  upon  himself  only  as"  a  lodger, 
and  making  the  most  of  his  brief  tenure  of  St.  James's  and 
Hampton  Court ;  plundering,  it  is  true,  somewhat,  and  dividing 
among  his  German  followers  ;  but  what  could  be  expected  of  a 
sovereign  who  at  home  could  sell  his  subjects  at  so  many  ducats 
per  head,  and  made  no  scruple  in  disposing  of  them  ?  I  fancy  a 
considerable  shrewdness,  prudence,  and  even  moderation  in  his 
ways.  The  German  Protestant  was  a  cheaper,  and  better,  and 
kinder  king  than  the  Catholic  Stuart  in  whose  chair  he  sate,  and 
so  far  loyal  to  England  that  he  let  England  govern  herself. 

Having  these  lectures  in  view,  I  made  it  my  business  to  visit 


GEORGE   THE   FIRST.  11 

that  ugly  cradle  in  which  our  Georges  were  nursed.  The  old 
town  of  Hanover  must  look  still  pretty  much  as  in  the  time  when 
George  Louis  left  it.  The  gardens  and  pavilions  of  Herrenhausen 
are  scarce  changed  since  the  day  when  the  stout  old  Electress 
Sophia  fell  down  in  her  last  walk  there,  preceding  but  by  a  kw 
weeks  to  the  tomb  James  II. 's  daughter,  whose  death  made  way 
for  the  Brunswick  Stuarts  in  England. 

The  first  two  royal  Georges,  and  their  father,  Ernest  Augustus. 
had  quite  royal  notions  concerning  marriage,  and  Louis  XIV. 
and  Charles  II.  scarce  distinguished  themselves  more  at  Ver- 
sailles or  St.  James's  than  these  German  sultans  in  their  little  city 
on  the  banks  of  the  Leine.  You  may  see  at  Herrenhausen  the 
very  rustic  theater  in  which  the  Platens  danced  and  performed 
masques,  and  sang  before  the  Elector  and  his  sons.  There  are 
the  very  fauns  and  dryads  of  stone  still  glimmering  through  the 
branches,  still  grinning  and  piping  their  ditties  of  no  tone,  as  in 
the  days  when  painted  nymphs  hung  garlands  round  them  ;  ap- 
peared under  their  leafy  arcades  with  gilt  crooks,  guiding  rams 
with  guilt  horns ;  descended  from  "  machines"  in  the  guise  ot 
Diana  or  Minerva ;  and  delivered  immense  allegorical  compli- 
ments to  the  princes  returned  home  from  the  campaign. 

That  was  a  curious  state  of  morals  and  politics  in  Europe ;  a 
queer  consequence  of  the  triumph  of  the  monarchial  principle. 
Feudalism  was  beaten  down.  The  nobility,  in  its  quarrels  with 
the  crown,  had  pretty  well  succumbed,  and  the  monarch  was  all 
in  all.  He  became  almost  divine.  The  proudest  and  most  an- 
cient gentry  of  the  land  did  menial  service  for  him.  Who  should 
carry  Louis  XIV.'s  candle  when  he  went  to  bed  ?  what  prince 
of  the  blood  should  hold  the  king's  shirt,  when  his  Most  Chris- 
tian Majesty  changed  that  garment  ?  The  French  memoirs  of 
the  seventeenth  century  are  full  of  such  details  and  squabbles. 
The  tradition  is  not  yet  extinct  in  Europe.  Any  of  you  who 
were  present,  as  myriads  were,  at  that  splendid  pageant,  the 
opening  of  our  Crystal  Palace  in  London,  must  have  seen  two 
noble  lords,  great  officers  of  the  household,  with  ancient  pedi- 
grees, with  embroidered  coats,  and  stars  on  their  breasts,  and 
wands  in  their  hands,  walking  backward  for  near  the  space  of  a 
mile,  while  the  royal  procession  made  its  progress.  Shall  we 
wonder — shall  we  be  angry — shall  we  laugh  at  these  old-world 
ceremonies?     View  them  as  you  will,  according  to  your  rnood 


12  •  THE    FOUR    GEORGES. 

and  with  scorn  or  with  respect,  or  with  anger  and  sorrow,  as 
your  temper  leads  you.  Up  goes  G-esler's  hat  upon  the  pole. 
Salute  that  symbol  of  sovereignty  with  heartfelt  awe,  or  with  a 
sulky  shrug  of  acquiescence,  or  with  a  grinning  obeisance,  or, 
with  a  stout,  rebellious  No  !  clap  your  own  beaver  down  on  your 
pate,  and  refuse  to  doff  it  to  that  spangled  velvet  and  flaunting 
feather.  I  make  no  comment  upon  the  spectators'  behavior  ;  all 
I  say  is,  that  G-esler's  cap  is  still  up  in  the  market-place  of  Europe, 
and  not  a  few  folks  are  still  kneeling  to  it. 

Put  clumsy,  high  Dutch  statues  in  place  of  the  marbles  of 
Versailles ;  fancy  Herrenhausen  water-works  in  the  place  of 
those  of  Marly ;  spread  the  tables  with  Schweinskopf,  Speck- 
suDpe,  Leber  kuchen,  and  the  like  delicacies,  in  the  place  of  the 
French  cuisine  ;  and  fancy  Frau  von  Keilmansegge  dancing  with 
Coant  Kammerjunker  Quirini,  or  singing  French  songs  with  the 
most  awful  German  accent ;  imagine  a  coarse  Versailles,  and  we 
have  a  Hanover  before  us.  "  I  am  now  got  into  the  region  of 
beauty,"  writes  Mary  Wortley,  from  Hanover,  in  1716  ;  "all  the 
women  have  literally  rosy  cheeks,  snowy  foreheads  and  necks, 
jet  eyebrows,  to  which  may  generally  be  added  coal-black  hair. 
Tnese  perfections  never  leave  them  to  the  day  of  their  death, 
and  have  a  very  fine  effect  by  candle-light ;  but  I  could  wish 
they  were  handsome  with  a  little  variety.  They  resemble  one 
another  as  Mrs.  Salmon's  Court  of  Great  Britain,  and  are  in  as 
much  danger  of  melting  away  by  too  nearly  approaching  the 
fire."  The  sly  Mary  Wortley  saw  this  painted  seraglio  of  the 
first  George  at  Hanover,  the  year  after  his  accession  to  the  Brit- 
ish throne.  There  were  great  doings  and  feasts  there.  Here 
Lady  Mary  saw  George  II.  too.  "  I  can  tell  you,  without  flat- 
tery or  partiality,"  she  says,  "  that  our  young  prince  has  all  the 
accomplishments  that  it  is  possible  to  have  at  his  age,  with  an  air 
of  sprightliness  and  understanding,  and  a  something  so  very  en- 
gaging in  his  behavior,  that  needs  not  the  advantage  of  his  rank, 
to  appear  charming."  I  find  elsewhere  similar  panegyrics  upon 
Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  George  II.'s  son;  and  upon  George 
III.,  of  course,  and  upon  George  IV.  in  an  eminent  degree.  It 
was  the  rule  to  be  dazzled  by  princes,  and  people's  eyes  winked 
quite  honestly  at  that  royal  radiance. 

The  Electoral  Court  of  Hanover  was  numerous — pretty  well 
paid,  as  times  went ;  above  all,  paid  with  a  regularity  which  few 


GEORGE   THE   FIRST.  13 

other  European  courts  could  boast  of.  Perhaps  you  will  be 
amused  to  know  how  the  Electoral  Court  was  composed.  There 
were  the  princes  of  the  house  in  the  first  class  ;  in  the  second, 
the  single  field-marshal  of  the  army  (the  contingent  was  eighteen 
thousand,  Pollnitz  says,  and  the  Elector  had  other  fourteen  thous- 
and troops  in  his  pay).  Then  follow,  in  due  order,  the  authorities, 
civil  and  military,  the  working  privy  councilors,  the  generals  of 
cavalry  and  infantry,  inthe  third  class ;  the  high  chamberlain,  high 
marshals  of  the  court,  high  masters  of  the  horse,  the  major-gen- 
erals of  cavalry  and  infantry,  in  the  fourth  class,  down  to  the 
majors,  the  Hofjunkers,  or  pages,  the  secretaries  or  assessors,  of 
the  tenth  class,  of  whom  all  were  noble. 

We  find  the  master  of  the  horse  had  one  thousand  and  ninety 
thalers  of  pay ;  the  high  chamberlain,  two  thousand — a  thaler  being 
about  three  shillings  cf  our  money.  There  were  two  chamberlains, 
and  one  for  the  princess ;  five  gentlemen  of  the  chamber,  and  five 
gentlemen  ushers  ;  eleven  pages,  and  personages  to  educate  these 
young  noblemen — such  as  a  governor,  a  preceptor,  a  fecht-meister, 
or  fencing  master,  and  a  dancing  ditto,  this  latter  with  a  handsome 
salary  of  four  hundred  thalers.  There  were  three  body  and  court 
physicians,  with  eight  hundred  and  five  hundred  thalers  ;  a  court 
barber,  six  hundred  thalers  ;  a  court  organist ;  two  musikanten  ; 
four  French  fiddlers ;  twelve  trumpeters,  and  a  bugler ;  so  that 
there  was  plenty  of  music,  profane  and  pious,  in  Hanover.  There 
were  ten  chamber  waiters,  and  twenty-four  lackeys  in  livery ;  a 
maitre-d'hotel,  and  attendants  of  the  kitchen ;  a  French  cook ;  a 
body  cook  •  ten  cooks ;  six  cooks'  assistants  ;  two  Braten  mas- 
ters, or  masters  of  the  roast  (one  fancies  enormous  spits  turning 
slowly,  and  the  honest  masters  of  the  roast  beladling  the  drip- 
ping) ;  a  pastry  baker ;  a  pie  baker ;  and,  finally,  three  scullions, 
at  the  modest  remuneration  of  eleven  thalers.  In  the  sugar- 
chamber  there  were  four  pastry  cooks  (for  the  ladies,  no  doubt) ; 
seven  officers  in  the  wine  and  beer  cellars ;  four  bread  bakers ;  and 
five  men  in  the  plate-room.  There  were  six  hundred  horses  in  the 
Serene  stables — no  less  than  twenty  teams  of  princely  carriage 
horses,  eight  to  a  team  ;  sixteen  coachmen  ;  fourteen  postillions  ; 
nineteen  hostlers ;  thirteen  helps,  besides  smiths,  carriage-mas- 
ters, horse  doctors,  and  other  attendants  of  the  stable.  The 
female  attendants  were  not  so  numerous:  I  grieve  to  find  hut  a 
dozen  or  fourteen  of  them  about  the  Electoral  premises,  and  Only 


14  THE    FOUR    GEORGES. 

two  -washerwomen  for  all  the  Court.  These  functionaries  had 
not  so  much  to  do  as  in  the  present  age.  I  own  to  finding  a 
pleasure  in  these  small  beer  chronicles.  I  like  to  people  the  old 
world  with  its  every  day  figures  and  inhabitants — not  so  much 
with  heroes  fighting  immense  battles  and  inspiring  repulsed  bat- 
talions to  engage,  or  statesmen  locked  up  in  darkling  cabinets, 
and  meditating  ponderous  laws  or  dire  conspiracies,  as  with 
people  occupied  with  their  every  day  work  or  pleasure — my 
lord  and  lady  hunting  in  the  forest,  or  dancing  in  the  Court,  or 
bowing  to  their  serene  highnesses  as  they  pass  in  to  dinner; 
John  Cook  and  his  procession  bringing  the  meal  from  the  kitchen ; 
the  jolly  butlers  bearing  in  the  flagons  from  the  cellar;  the  stout 
coachman  driving  the  ponderous  gilt  wagon,  with  eight  cream- 
colored  horses  in  housings  of  scarlet  velvet  and  morocco  leather  ; 
a  postillion  on  the  leaders,  and  a  pair  or  half  a  dozen  of  running 
footmen  scudding  along  by  the  side  of  the  vehicle,  with  conical 
caps,  long  silver-headed  maces,  which  they  poised  as  they  ran, 
and  splendid  jackets  laced  all  over  with  silver  and  gold.  I  fancy 
the  citizens'  wives  and  their  daughters  looking  out  from  the  bal- 
conies ;  and  the  burghers,  over  their  beer  and  mum,  rising  up, 
cap  in  hand,  as  the  cavalcade  passes  through  the  town  with 
torch-bearers,  trumpeters  blowing  their  lusty  cheeks  out,  and 
squadrons  of  jack-booted  life-guardsmen,  girt  with  shining  cui- 
rasses, and  bestriding  thundering  chargers,  escorting  his  highness's 
coach  from  Hanover  to  Herrenhausen ;  or  halting,  mayhap,  at 
Madame  Platen's  country-house  of  Monplaisir,  which  lies  half 
way  between  the  summer  palace  and  the  Kesidenz. 

In  the  good  old  times  of  which  I  am  treating,  while  common 
men  were  driven  off"  by  herds,  and  sold  to  fight  the  emperor's 
enemies  on  the  Danube,  or  to  bayonet  King  Louis'  troops  of 
common  men  on  the  Rhine,  noblemen  passed  from  court  to 
court,  seeking  service  with  one  prince  or  the  other,  and  natur- 
ally taking  command  of  the  ignoble  vulgar  of  soldiery  which 
battled  and  died  almost  without  hope  of  promotion.  Noble  ad- 
venturers traveled  from  court  to  court  in  search  of  employment; 
not  merely  noble  males,  but  noble  females  too ;  and  if  these 
latter  were  beauties,  and  obtained  the  favorable  notice  of  princes, 
they  stopped  in  the  courts,  became  the  favorites  of  their  Serene 
or  Royal  Highnesses ;  and  received  great  sums  of  money  and 
splendid  diamonds ;  and  were  promoted  to  be  duchesses,  mar- 


GEORGE   THE   FIRST.  15 

chionesses,  and  the  like  ;  and  did  not  fall  much  in  public  esteem 
for  the  manner  in  which  they  won  their  advancement.  In  this 
way  Mademoiselle  de  Querouailles,  a  beautiful  French  lady,  came 
to  London  on  a  special  mission  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  was  adopted 
by  our  grateful  country  and  sovereign,  and  figured  as  the  Ducheps 
of  Portsmouth.  In  this  way  the  beautiful  Aurora  of  Konigsmarck, 
traveling  about,  found  favor  in  the  eyes  of  Augustus  of  Saxony, 
and  became  the  mother  of  Marshal  Saxe,  who  gave  us  a  beating  at 
Fountenoy ;  and  in  this  manner  the  lovely  sisters  Elizabeth  and 
Melusina  of  Meissenbach  (who  had  actually  been  driven  out  of 
Paris,  whither  they  had  traveled  on  a  like  errand,  by  the  wise  jeal- 
ousy of  the  female  favorite  there  in  possession)  journeyed  to  Han- 
over, and  became  favorites  of  the  serene  house  there  reigning. 

That  beautiful  Aurora  von  Konigsmarck  and  her  brother  are 
wonderful  as  types  of  by-gone  manners,  and  strange  illustrations 
of  the  morals  of  old  days.  The  Konigsmarcks  were  descended 
from  an  ancient  noble  family  of^Brandenburg,  a  branch  of  which 
passed  into  Sweden,  where  it  enriched  itself  and  produced  sev- 
eral mighty  men  of  valor. 

The  founder  of  the  race  was  Hans  Christof,  a  famous  warrior 
and  plunderer  of  the  thirty  years'  war.  One  of  Hans's  sons, 
Otto,  appeared  as  embassador  at  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.,  and 
had  to  make  a  Swedish  speech  at  his  reception  before  the  Most 
Christian  King.  Otto  Avas  a  famous  dandy  and  warrior,  but  he 
forgot  the  speech,  and  what  do  you  think  he  did  ?  Far  from 
being  disconcerted,  he  recited  a  portion  of  the  Swedish  Cate- 
chism to  his  Most  Christian  Majesty  and  his  court,  not  one  of 
whom  understood  his  lingo  with  the  exception  of  his  own  suite, 
who  had  to  keep  their  gravity  as  best  they  might. 

Otto's  nephew,  Aurora's  elder  brother,  Carl  Johann  of  Konigs- 
marck, a  favorite  of  Charles  II.,  a  beauty,  a  dandy,  a  warrior,  a 
rascal  of  more  than  ordinary  mark,  escaped  but  deserved  being 
hanged  in  England  for  the  murder  of  Tom  Thynne  of  Longleat. 
He  had  a  little  brother  in  London  with  him  at  this  time : — as 
great  a  beauty,  as  great  a  dandy,  as  great  a  villain  as  his  elder. 
This  lad,  Philip  of  Konigsmarck,  also  was  implicated  in  the  affair ; 
and  perhaps  it  is  a  pity  he  ever  brought  his  pretty  neck  out  of 
it.  He  went  over  to  Hanover,  and  was  soon  appointed  colonel 
of  a  regiment  of  H.E.  Highness's  dragoons.  In  early  life  he  had 
been  page  in  the  court  of  Celle ;  and  it  was  said  that  he  and  tho 


16  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

pretty  Princess  Sophia  Dorothea,  who  by  this  time  was  married 
to  her  cousin  George,  the  Electoral  Prince,  had  been  in  love  with 
each  other  as  children.  Their  loves  were  now  to  be  renewed, 
not  innocently,  and  to  come  to  a  fearful  end. 

A  biography  of  the  wife  of  George  I,  by  Dr.  Doran,  has 
lately  appeared,  and  I  confess  I  am  astounded  at  the  verdict 
which  that  writer  has  delivered,  and  at  his  acquittal  of  this  most 
unfortunate  lady.  That  she  had  a  cold,  selfish  libertine  of  a  hus- 
band no  one  can  doubt ;  but  that  the  bad  husband  had  a  bad 
wife  is  equally  clear.  She  was  married  to  her  cousin  for  money 
or  convenience,  as  all  princesses  were  married.  She  was  most 
beautiful,  lively,  witty,  accomplished :  his  brutality  outraged  her : 
his  silence  and  coldness  chilled  her :  bis  cruelty  insulted  her.  No 
wonder  she  did  not  love  him.  How  could  love  be  a  part  of  the 
compact  in  such  a  marriage  as  that  ?  With  this  unlucky  heart 
to  dispose  of,  the  poor  creature  bestowed  it  on  Philip  of  Konigs- 
marck,  than  whom  a  greater  scamp  does  not  walk  the  history  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  A  hundred  and  eighty  years  after 
the  fellow  was  thrust  into  his  unknown  grave,  a  Swedish  pro- 
fessor lights  upon  a  box  of  letters  in  the  University  Library  at 
Upsala,  written  by  Philip  and  Dorothea  to  each  other,  and  tell- 
ing their  miserable  story. 

The  bewitching  Konigsmarck  had  conquered  two  female  hearts 
in  Hanover.  Besides  the  Electoral  Prince's  lovely  young  wife, 
Sophia  Dorothea,  Philip  had  inspired  a  passion  in  a  hideous  old 
court  lady,  the  Countess  of  Platen.  The  princess  seems  to  have 
pursued  him  with  the  fidelity  of  many  years.  Heaps  of  letters 
followed  him  on  his  campaigns,  and  were  answered  by  the  dar- 
ing adventurer.  The  princess  wanted  to  fly  with  him ;  to  quit 
her  odious  husband  at  any  rate.  She  besought  her  parents  to 
receive  her  back ;  had  a  notion  of  taking  refuge  in  France  and 
going  over  to  the  Catholic  religion ;  had  absolutely  packed  her 
jewels  for  flight,  and  very  likely  arranged  its  details  with  her 
lover,  in  that  last  long  night's  interview,  after  which  Philip  of 
Konigsmarck  was  seen  no  more. 

Konigsmarck,  inflamed  with  drink — there  is  scarcely  any  vice 
of  which,  according  to  his  own*showing,  this  gentleman  was  not 
a  practitioner — had  boasted  at  a  supper  at  Dresden  of  his  inti- 
macy with  the  two  Hanoverian  ladies — not  only  with  the  prin- 
cess, but  with  another  lady  powerful  in  Hanover.     The  Countess 


GEORGE   THE    FIRST.  17 

Platen,  the  old  favorite  of  the  Elector,  hated  the  young  Electoral 
Princess.  The  young  lady  had  a  lively  wit,  and  constantly  made 
fun  of  the  old  one.  The  princess's  jokes  were  conveyed  to  the 
old  Platen,  just  as  our  idle  words  are  carried  about  at  this  pres- 
ent day,  and  so  they  both  hated  each  other. 

The  characters  in  the  tragedy,  af  which  the  curtain  was  now 
about  to  fall,  are  about  as  dark  a  set  as  eye  ever  rested  on. 
There  is  the  jolly  prince,  shrewd,  selfish,  scheming,  loving  his 
cups  and  his  ease  (I  think  his  good-humor  makes  the  tragedy 
but  darker) ;  his  princess,  who  speaks  little,  but  observes  all  ; 
his  old,  painted  Jezebel  of  a  mistress ;  his  son,  the  Electoral 
Prince,  shrewd  too,  quiet,  selfish,  not  ill-humored,  and  generally 
silent,  except  when  goaded  into  fury  by  the  intolerable  tongue 
of  his  lovely  wife ;  there  is  poor  Sophia  Dorothea,  with  her 
coquetry  and  her  wrongs,  and  her  passionate  attachment  to  her 
scamp  of  a  lover,  and  her  wild  imprudences,  and  her  mad  arti- 
fices, and  her  insane  fidelity,  and  her  furious  jealousy  regarding 
her  husband  (though  she  loathed  and  cheated  him),  and  her  pro- 
digious falsehoods;  and  the  confidante,  of  course,  into  whose 
hands  the  letters  are  slipped ;  and  there  is  Lothario,  finally,  than 
whom,  as  I  have  said,  one  can't  imagine  a  more  handsome, 
wicked,  worthless  reprobate. 

How  that  perverse  fidelity  of  passion  pursues  the  villain  I 
How  madly  true  the  woman  is,  and  how  astoundingly  she.  nes 
She  has  bewitched  two  or  three  persons  who  have  taken  her  up, 
and  they  won't  believe  in  her  wrong.  Like  Mary  of  Scotland, 
she  finds  adherents  ready  to  conspire  for  her  even  in  history ; 
and  people  who  have  to  deal  with  her  are  charmed,  and  fascin- 
ated, and  bedeviled.  How  devotedly  Miss  Strickland  has  stood 
by  Mary's  innocence  I  Are  there  not  scores  of  ladies  in  this 
audience  who  persist  in  it  too  ?  Innocent !  I  remember  as  a 
boy  how  a  great  party  persisted  in  declaring  Caroline  of  Bruns- 
wick was  a  martyred  angel.  So  was  Helen  of  Greece  innocent. 
She  never  ran  away  with  Paris,  the  dangerous  young  Trojan. 
Menelaus  her  husband  ill-used  her ;  and  there  never  was  any 
siege  of  Troy  at  all.  So  was  Bluebeard's  wife  innocent.  She 
never  peeped  into  the  closet  where  the  other  wives  were  with 
their  heads  off.  She  never  dropped  the  key,  or  stained  it  with 
blood  ;  and  her  brothers  were  quite  right  in  finishing  Bluebeard, 
the  cowardly  brute  !     Yes,  Caroline  of  Brunswick   was  inno- 


18  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

cent ;  and  Madame  LaJTarge  never  poisoned  her  husband  ;  and 
Mary  of  Scotland  never  blew  up  hers;  and  poor  Sophia  Doro- 
thea was  never  unfaithful ;  and  Eve  never  took  the  apple — it 
was  a  cowardly  fabrication  of  the  serpent's. 

George  Louis  has  been  held  up  to  execration  as  a  murderous 
Bluebeard,  whereas  the  Electoral  Prince  had  no  share  in  the 
transaction  in  which  Philip  of  Konigsmarck  was  scuffled  out  of 
this  mortal  scene.  The  prince  was  absent  when  the  catastrophe 
came.  The  princess  had  had  a  hundred  warnings ;  mild  hints 
from  her  husband's  parents ;  grim  remonstrances  from  himself — 
but  took  no  more  heed  of  such  advice  than  such  besotted  poor 
wretches  do.  On  the  night  of  Sunday,  the  1st  of  July,  1694, 
Konigsmarck  paid  a  long  visit  to  the  princess,  and  left  her  to  get 
ready  for  flight.  Her  husband  was  away  at  Berlin ;  her  carriage 
and  horses  were  prepared  and  ready  for  the  elopement.  Mean- 
vvhile  the  spies  of  Countess  Paten  had  brought  the  news  to  their 
mistress.  She  went  to  Ernest  Augustus,  and  procured  from  the 
Elector  an  order  for  the  arrest  of  the  Swede.  On  the  way  by 
which  he  was  to  come  four  guards  were  commissioned  to  take 
him.  He  strove  to  cut  his  way  chrough  the  four  men,  and 
wounded  more  than  one  of  them.  They  fell  upon  him;  cut  him 
down  ;  and,  as  he  was  lying  wounded  on  the  ground,  the  count- 
ess, his  enemy,  whom  he  had  betrayed  and  insulted,  came  out 
and  beheld  him  prostrate.  He  cursed  her  with  his  dying  lips, 
and  the  furious  woman  stamped  upon  his  mouth  with  her  heel. 
He  was  dispatched  presently ;  his  body  burned  the  next  day ; 
and  all  traces  of  the  man  disappeared.  The  guards  who  killed 
him  were  enjoined  silence  under  severe  penalties.  The  princess 
was  reported  to  be  ill  in  her  apartments,  from  which  she  was 
taken  in  October  of  the  same  year,  being  then  eight-and-twenty 
years  old,  and  consigned  to  the  castle  of  Ahlden,  where  she  re- 
mained a  prisoner  for  no  less  than  thirty-two  years.  A  separa- 
tion had  been  pronounced  previously  between  her  and  her  hus- 
band. She  was  called  henceforth  the  "  Princess  of  Ahlden," 
and  her  silent  husband  no  more  uttered  her  name. 

Four  years  after  the  Konigsmarck  catastrophe  Ernest  Augus- 
tus, the  first  Elector  of  Hanover,  died,  and  George  Louis,  his 
son,  reigned  in  his  stead.  Sixteen  years  he  reigned  in  Hanover, 
after  which  he  became,  as  we  know,  King  of  Great  Britain, 
France,  and  Ireland,  Defender  of  the  Faith.     The  wicked  old 


GEORGE   THE  FIRST.  19 

Countess  Platen  died  in  the  year  1706.  She  had  lost  her  sight, 
but  nevertheless  the  legend  says  that  she  constantly  saw  Kon- 
igstnarck's  ghost  by  her  wicked  old  bed.  And  so  there  was  an 
end  of  her. 

In  the  year  1700  the  little  Duke  of  Gloucester,  the  last  of 
poor  Queen  Anne's  children,  died,  and  the  folks  of  Hanover 
straightway  became  of  prodigious  importance  in  England.  The 
Electress  Sophia  was  declared,  the  next  in  succession  to  the 
English  throne.  George  Louis  was  created  Duke  of  Cambridge ; 
grand  deputations  were  sent  over  from  our  country  to  Deutsch- 
land ;  but  Queen  Anne,  whose  weak  heart  hankered  after  her 
relatives  at  St.  Germains,  never  could  be  got  to  all»w  her  cousin, 
the  Elector  Duke  of  Cambridge,  to  come  and  pay  his  respects  to 
her  Majesty,  and  take  his  seat  in  her  House  of  Peers.  Had  the 
Queen  lasted  a  month  longer ;  had  the  English  Tories  been  as 
bold  .and  resolute  as  they  were  clever  and  crafty;  had  the  prince 
whom  the  nation  loved  and  pitied  been  equal  to  his  fortune, 
George  Louis  had  never  talked  German  in  St.  James's  Chapel 
Royal. 

When  the  crown  did  come  to  George  Louis  he  was  in  no 
hurry  about  putting  it  on.  He  waited  at  home  for  a  while ; 
took  an  affecting  farewell  of  his  dear  Hanover  and  Herren- 
hausen;  and  set  out  in  the  most  leisurely  manner  to  ascend  the 
"  throne  of  his  ancestors,"  as  he  called  it  in  his  first  speech  to 
Parliament.  He  brought  with  him  a  compact  body  of  Germans, 
whose  society  he  loved,  and  whom  he  kept  round  the  royal  per- 
son. He  had  his  faithful  German  chamberlains;  his  Germar 
secretaries ;  his  negroes,  captives  of  his  bow  and  spear  in  Turk- 
ish wars  ;  his  two  ugly,  elderly  German  favorites,  Mesilames  of 
Kielmansegge  and  Schulenberg,  whom  he  created  respectively 
Countess  of  Darlington  and  Duchess  of  Kendal.  The  Duchess 
was  tall  and  lean  of  stature,  and  hence  was  irreverently  nick- 
named the  Maypole.  The  Countess  was  a  large-sized  noble- 
woman, and  this  elevated  personage  was  denominated  the  Ele- 
phant. Both  of  these  ladies  loved  Hanover  and  its  delights ; 
clung  round  the  linden-trees  of  the  great  Herrenhausen  avenue, 
and  at  first  would  not  quit  the  place.  Schulenberg,  in  fact, 
could  not  come  on  account  of  her  debts ;  but  finding  the  May- 
pole would  not  come,  the  Elephant  packed  up  her  trunk  and 
slipped  out  of  Hanover,  unwieldy  as  she  was.     On  this  the  May- 


20  THE   FOUR    GEORGES. 

pole  straightway  put  herself  in  motion,  and  followed  her  beloved 
George  Louis.  One  seems  to  be  speaking  of  Captain  Macheath, 
and  Polly,  and  Lucy.  The  King  we  had  selected;  the  courtiers 
who  came  in  his  train ;  the  English  nobles  who  came  to  wel- 
come him,  and  on  many  of  whom  the  shrewd  old  cynic  turned 
his  back — I  protest  it  is  a  wonderful,  satirical  picture  I  I  am  a 
citizen  waiting  at  Greenwich  pier,  say,  and  crying  hurrah  for 
Kin"-  George  ;  and  yet  I  can  scarcely  keep  my  countenance 
and  help  laughing  at  the  enormous  absurdity  of  this  advent ! 

Here  we  are,  all  on  our  knees.  Here  is  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  prostrating  himself  to  the  head  of  his  church,  with 
Kielmansegge  and  Schulenberg  with  their  ruddled  cheeks  grin- 
ning behind  the  defender  of  the  faith.  Here  is  my  Lord  Duke 
of  Marlborough  kneeling  too,  the  greatest  warrior  of  all  times ; 
he  who  betrayed  King  William — betrayed  King  James  II. — be- 
trayed Queen  Anne — betrayed  England  to  the  French,  the  Elec- 
tor to  the  Pretender,  the  Pretender  to  the  Elector ;  and  here  are 
my  Lords  Oxford  and  Bolingbroke,  the  latter  of  whom  has  just 
tripped  up  the  heels  of  the  former;  and  if  a  month's  more  time 
had  been  allowed  him,  would  have  had  King  James  at  West- 
minster. The  great  Whig  gentlemen  made  their  bows  and  con- 
gees with  proper  decorum  and  ceremony ;  but  yonder  keen  old 
schemer  knows  the  value  of  their  loyalty.  "  Loyalty,"  he  must 
think,  "  as  applied  to  me — it  is  absurd  1  There  are  fifty  nearer 
heirs  to  the  throne  than  I  am.  I  am  but  an  accident,  and  you 
fine  Whig  gentlemen  take  me  for  your  own  sake,  not  for  mine. 
You  Tories  hate  me  ;  you  archbishop,  smirking  on  your  knees, 
and  prating  about  Heaven,  you  know  I  don't  care  a  fig  for  your 
Thirty-nine  Articles,  and  can't  understand  a  word  of  your  stupid 
sermons.  You,  my  Lords  Bolingbroke  and  Oxford — you  know 
you  were  conspiring  against  me  a  month  ago ;  and  you,  my 
Lord  Duke  of  Marlborough — you  would  sell  me,  or  any  man 
else,  if  you  found  your  advantage  in  it.  Come,  my  good  Melu- 
sina,  come,  my  honest  Sophia,  let  us  go  into  my  private  room, 
and  have  some  oysters  and  some  Rhine  wine,  and  some  pipes 
afterward :  let  us  make  the  best  of  our  situation ;  let  us  take 
what  we  can  get,  and  leave  these  bawling,  brawling,  lying  Eng- 
lish to  shout,  and  fight,  and  cheat,  in  their  own  way !" 

If  Swift  had  not  been  committed  to  the  statesmen  of  the 
losing  side,  what  a  fine  satirical  picture  we  might  have  had  of 


GEORGE   THE    FIRST.  21 

that  general  sauve  quipeut  among  the  Tory  party !  How  mum 
the  Tories  became ;  how  the  House  of  Lords  and  House  of  Com- 
mons chopped  round ;  and  how  decorously  the  majorities  wel- 
comed King  George ! 

Bolingbroke,  making  his  last  speech  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
pointed  out  the  shame  of  peerage,  where  several  lords  concurred 
to  condemn  in  one  general  vote  all  that  they  had  approved  in 
former  parliaments  by  many  particular  resolutions.  And  so  their 
conduct  was  shameful.  St.  John  had  the  best  of  the  argument, 
but  the  worst  of  the  vote.  Bad  times  were  come  for  him.  He 
talked  philosophy,  and  professed  innocence.  He  courted  retire- 
ment, and  was  ready  to  meet  persecution;  but  hearing  that 
honest  Mat  Prior,  who  had  been  recalled  from  Paris,  was  about 
to  peach  regarding  the  past  transactions,  the  philosopher  bolted, 
and  took  that  magnificent  head  of  his  out  of  the  ugly  reach  of 
the  ax.  Oxford,  the  lazy  and  good-humored,  had  more  courage, 
and  awaited  the  storm  at  home.  He  and  Mat  Prior  both  had 
lodgings  in  the  Tower,  and  both  brought  their  heads  safe  out  of 
that  dangerous  menagerie.  When  Atterbury  was  carried  off  to 
the  same  den,  a  few  years  afterward,  and  it  was  asked  what 
next  should  be  done  with  him  ?  "  Done  with  him  ?  Fling  him 
to  the  lions !"  Cadogan  said,  Marlborough's  lieutenant.  But  the 
British  lion  of  those  days  did  not  care  much  for  drinking  the 
blood  of  peaceful  peers  and  poets,  or  crunching  the  bones  of 
bishops.  Only  four  men  were  executed  in  London  for  the  rebel- 
lion of  1715  ;  and  twenty-two  in  Lancashire.  Above  a  thousand 
taken  in  arms  submitted  to  the  King's  mercy,  and  petitioned  to 
be  transported  to  his  majesty's  colonies  in  America.  I  have 
heard  that  their  descendants  took  the  loyalist  side  in  the  disputes 
which  arose  sixty  years  after.  It  is  pleasant  to  find  that  a  friend 
of  ours,  worthy  Dick  Steele,  was  for  letting  off  the  rebels  with 
their  fives. 

As  one  thinks  of  what  might  have  been,  how  amusing  the  specu- 
lation is  1  We  know  how  the  doomed  Scottish  gentlemen  canio 
out  at  Lord  Mar's  summons,  mounted  the  white  cockade,  tLatliaa 
been  a  flower  of  sad  poetry  ever  since,  and  rallied  rcmad  the  ill- 
omenea  Stuart  standard  at  Braemar.  Mar,  with  eight  thousand 
men,  and  but  one  thousand  five  hundred  opposed  to  him,  might 
have  driven  the  enemy  over  the  Tweed,  and  taken  possession  of  the 
whole  of  Scotland  ;  but  that  the  Pretender's  duke  did  not  venture 


22  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

to  move  when  the  day  was  his  own.  Edinburgh  castle  might  have 
been  in  King  James's  hands ;  but  that  the  men  who  were  to  esca- 
lade it  staid  to  drink  his  health  at  the  tavern,  and  arrived  two 
hours  too  late  at  the  rendezvous  under  the  castle  wall.  There  was 
sympathy  enough  in  the  town — the  projected  attack  seems  to 
have  been  known  there — Lord  Mahon  quotes  Sinclair's  account 
of  a  gentleman  not  concerned,  who  told  Sinclair  that  he  was  in 
a  house  that  evening  where  eighteen  of  them  were  drinking,  as 
the  facetious  landlady  said,  "  powdering  their  hair,"  for  the  attack 
of  the  castle.  Suppose  they  had  not  stopped  to  powder  their 
hair  ?  Edinburgh  Castle,  and  town,  and  all  Scotland,  were  King 
James's.  The  north  of  England  rises,  and  marches  over  Barnet 
Heath  upon  London.  Wyndham  is  up  in  Somersetshire  ;  Pack- 
ington  in  Worcestershire  ;  and  Vivian  in  Cornwall.  The  Elector 
of  Hanover  and  his  hideous  mistresses  pack  up  the  plate,  and 
perhaps  the  crown  jewels  in  London,  and  are  off  via  Harwich 
and  Helvoetsluys,  for  dear  old  Deutschland.  The  King — God 
save  him  ! — lands  at  Dover,  with  tumultuous  applause  ;  shouting 
multitudes,  roaring  cannon,  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  weeping 
tears  of  joy,  and  all  the  bishops  kneeling  in  the  mud.  In  a  few 
years  mass  is  said  in  St.  Paul's ;  matins  and  vespers  are  sung  in 
York  Minster  ;  and  Dr.  Swift  is  turned  out  of  his  stall  and  dean- 
ery house  at  St.  Patrick's,  to  give  place  to  Father  Dominic,  from 
Salamanca.  All  these  changes  were  possible  then,  and  once 
thirty  years  afterward — all  this  we  might  have  had,  but  for  the 
pulveris  exiguijaciu,  that  little  toss  of  powder  for  the  hair  which 
the  Scotch  conspirators  stopped  to  take  at  the  tavern. 

You  understand  the  distinction  I  would  draw  between  liistory 
— of  which  I  do  not  aspire  to  be  an  expounder — and  manners 
and  life  such  as  these  sketches  would  describe.  The  rebellion 
breaks  out  in  the  north ;  its  story  is  before  you  in  a  hundred  vol- 
umes, in  none  more  fairly  than  in  the  excellent  narrative  of  Lord 
Mahon.  The  clans  are  up  in  Scotland ;  Derwentwater,  Nithis- 
dale,  and  Forster  are  in  arms  in  Northumberland — these  are  mat- 
ters of  history,  for  which  you  are  referred  to  the  due  chroniclers. 
The  Guards  are  set  to  watch  the  streets  and  prevent  the  people 
wearing  white  roses.  I  read  presently  of  a  couple  of  soldiers 
almost  flogged  to  death  for  wearing  oak-boughs  in  their  hats  on 
the  29th  of  May — another  badge  of  the  beloved  Stuarts.  It  is 
with  these  we  have  to  do  rather  than  with  the  inanities  ana 


GEORGE   THE    FIRST.  23 

battles  of  the  armies  to  which  the  poor  fellows  belonged — with 
statesmen,  and  how  they  looked,  and  how  they  lived,  rather  than 
with  measures  of  State,  which  belong  to  history  alone.  For  ex- 
ample, at  the  close  of  the  old  queen's  reign,  it  is  known  the  Duke 
of  Marlborough  left  the  kingdom — after  what  menaces,  after 
what  prayers,  lies,  bribes  offered,  taken,  refused,  accepted ;  after 
what  dark  doubling  and  tacking,  let  history,  if  she  can  or  dare, 
say.  The  queen  dead ;  who  so  eager  to  return  as  my  lord  duke  ? 
Who  shouts  God  save  the  king !  so  lustily  as  the  great  conqueror 
of  Blenheim  and  Malplaquet  ?  (By-the-way,  he  will  send  over 
some  more  money  for  the  Pretender  yet,  on  the  sly.)  Who 
lays  his  hand  on  his  blue  ribbon,  and  lifts  his  eyes  more  grace- 
fully to  heaven  than  this  hero  ?  He  makes  a  quasi-triumphal 
entrance  into  London,  by  Temple  Bar,  in  his  enormous  gilt 
coach — and  the  enormous  gilt  coach  breaks  down  somewhere 
by  Chancery  Lane,  and  his  highness  is  obliged  to  get  another. 
There  it  is  we  have  him.  We  are  with  the  mob  in  the  crowd, 
not  with  the  great  folks  in  the  procession.  We  are  not  the  His- 
toric Muse,  but  her  ladyship's  attendant,  tale-bearer — valet  de 
chambre — for  whom  no  man  is  a  hero  ;  and,  as  yonder  one  steps 
from  his  carriage  to  the  next  handy  conveyance,  we  take  the 
number  of  the  hack;  we  look  all  over  at  his  stars,  ribbons,  em- 
broidery ;  we  think  within  ourselves,  0  you  unfathomable  schem- 
er !  0  you  warrior  invincible  !  O  you  beautiful  smiling  Judas  ! 
What  master  would  you  not  kiss  or  betray  ?  What  traitor's 
head,  blackening  on  the  spikes  on  yonder  gate,  ever  hatched  a 
tithe  of  the  treason  which  has  worked  under  your  periwig  ? 

We  have  brought  our  Georges  to  London  city,  and  if  we 
would  behold  its  aspect,  may  see  it  in  Hogarth's  lively  perspec- 
tive of  Cheapside,  or  read  of  it  in  a  hundred  contemporary  books 
which  paint  the  manners  of  that  age.  Our  dear  old  Spectator 
looks  smiling  upon  these  streets,  with  their  innumerable  signs, 
and  describes  them  with  ius  charming  humor.  "  Our  streets  are 
filled  with  Blue  Boars,  Black  Swans,  and  Red  Lions,  not  to  men- 
tion Flying  Pigs  and  Hogs  in  Armor,  with  other  creatures  more 
extraordinary  than  any  in  the  deserts  of  Africa."  A  few  of 
these  quaint  old  figures  still  remain  in  London  town.  You  may 
still  see  there,  and  over  its  old  hostel  in  Ludgate  Hill,  the  Belle 
Sauvage  to  whom  the  Spectator  so  pleasantly  alludes  in  t^.: 
paper;  aud  who  was,  probably,  no  other  than  !h&  I'v'.vs'  £mar- 


24  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

can  Pocahontas,  who  rescued  from   death  the  daring  Captain 
Smith.     There  is  the  Lion's  Head,  down  whose  jaws  the  Spec- 
tator's own  letters  were  passed ;  and  over  a  great  banker's  in 
Fleet  Street,  the  effigy  of  the  wallet,  which  the  founder  of  the 
firm  bore  when  he  came  into  London  a  country  boy.     People 
this  street,  so   ornamented  with  crowds  of  swinging  chairmen, 
with  servants  bawling  to  clear  the  way,  with  Mr.  Dean  in  his 
cassock,  his  lackey  marching  before  him ;  or  Mrs.  Dinah  in  her 
sack,  tripping  to  chapel,   her  foot-boy  carrying  her  ladyship's 
great  prayer-book  ;  with  itinerant  tradesmen,  singing  their  hun- 
dred cries  (I  remember  forty  years  ago,  as  a  boy  in  London  city 
a  score  of  cheery,  familiar  cries,  that  are  silent  now).     Fancy  the 
beaux  thronging  to   the   chocolate-houses,  tapping  their  snuff- 
boxes as  they  issue  thence,  their  periwigs  appearing  over  the  red 
curtains.     Fancy  Saccharissa  beckoning  and  smiling  from  the 
upper  windows,  and  a  crowd  of  soldiers  brawling  and  bustling 
at  the  door — gentlemen  of  the  Life  Guards,  clad  in  scarlet,  with 
blue  facings,  and  laced  with  gold  at  the  seams ;  gentlemen  of  the 
Horse  Grenadiers,  in  their  caps  of  sky-blue  cloth,  with  the  gar- 
ter embroidered  on  the  front  in  gold  and  silver  ;  men  of  the  Hal- 
berdiers, in  their  long,  red  coats,  as  bluff  Harry  left  them,  with 
their  ruffs   and  velvet  flat  caps.     Perhaps  the  King's  majesty 
himself  is  going  to  St.  James's  as  we  pass.     If  he  is  going  to 
Parliament,   he   is   in   his   coach-and-eight,  surrounded   by  his 
guards  and  the  high  officers  of  his  crown.     Otherwise  his  Ma- 
jesty only  uses  a  chair,  with  six  footmen  walking  before,  and  six 
yeomen  of  the  guard  at  the  sides  of  the  sedan.     The  officers  in 
waiting  follow  the  King  in  coaches.     It  must  be  rather  slow 
work. 

Our  Spectator  and  Tattler  are  full  of  delightful  glimpses  of  the 
town  life  of  those  days.  In  the  company  of  that  charming  guide 
we  may  go  to  the  opera,  the  comedy,  the  puppet-show,  the  auc- 
tion, even  the  cock-pit :  we  can  take  boat  at  Temple  Stairs,  and 
accompany  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  and  Mr.  Spectator  to  Spring 
Garden — it  will  be  called  Vauxhall  a  few  years  since,  when 
Hogarth  will  paint  for  it.  Would  you  not  like  to  step  back  into 
the  past,  and  be  introduced  to  Mr.  Addison? — not  the  Right 
Honorable  Joseph  Addison,  Esq.,  George  I.'s  Secretary  of  State, 
but  to  the  delightful  painter  of  contemporary  manners  ;  the  man 
who,  when  in  good  humor  himself,  was  the  pleasantest  compan- 


GEORGE   THE   FIRST.  25 

ion  in  all  England.  I  shcfuld  like  to  go  into  Lockit's  with  him, 
and  drink  a  bowl  along  with  Sir  R.  Steele  (who  has  just  been 
knighted  by  King  George,  and  who  does  not  happen  to  have 
any  money  to  pay  his  share  of  the  reckoning).  I  should  not 
care  to  follow  Mr.  Addison  to  his  secretary's  office  in  White- 
hall. There  we  get  into  politics.  Our  business  is  pleasure,  and 
the  town,  and  the  coffee-house,  and  the  theater,  and  the  Mall. 
Delightful  Spectator !  kind  friend  of  leisure  hours !  happy  com- 
panion !  true  Christian  gentleman  !  How  much  greater,  better 
you  are  than  the  king  Mr.  Secretary  kneels  to  ! 

You  can  have  foreign  testimony  about  old-world  London,  if 
you  like ;  and  my  before-quoted  friend,  Charles  Louis,  Baron  de 
Pollnitz,  will  conduct  us  to  it.  "  A  man  of  sense,"  says  he,  "  or 
a  fine  gentleman,  is  never  at  a  loss  for  company  in  London ; 
and  this  is  the  way  the  latter  passes  his  time.  He  rises  late, 
puts  on  a  frock,  and,  leaving  his  sword  at  home,  takes  his  cane, 
and  goes  where  he  pleases.  The  park  is  commonly  the  place 
where  he  walks,  because  'tis  the  Exchange  for  men  of  quality. 
'Tis  the  same  thing  as  the  Tuileries  at  Paris,  only  the  park  has  a 
certain  beauty  of  simplicity  which  can  not  be  described.  The 
grand  walk  is  called  the  Mall ;  is  full  of  people  at  every  hour  of 
the  day,  but  especially  at  morning  and  evening,  when  their 
Majesties  often  walk  with  the  royal  family,  who  are  attended 
only  by  half  a  dozen  yeomen  of  the  guard,  and  permit  all  per- 
sons to  walk  at  the  same  time  with  them.  The  ladies  and 
gentlemen  always  appear  in  rich  dresses ;  for  the  English,  who, 
twenty  years  ago,  did  not  wear  gold  lace  but  in  their  army,  are 
now  embroidered  and  bedaubed  as  much  as  the  French.  I  speak 
of  persons  of  quality ;  for  the  citizen  still  contents  himself  with 
a  suit  of  fine  cloth,  a  good  hat  and  wig,  and  fine  linen.  Every 
body  is  well  clothed  here,  and  even  the  beggars  don't  make  so 
ragged  an  appearance  as  they  do  elsewhere."  After  our  friend, 
the  man  of  quality,  has  had  his  morning  or  undress  walk  in  the 
Mall,  he  goes  home  to  dress,  and  then  saunters  to  some  coffee- 
house or  chocolate-house,  frequented  by  the  persons  he  would 
see.  "  For  'tis  a  rule  with  the  English  to  go  once  a  day,  at  least, 
to  houses  of  tins  sort,  where  they  talk  of  business  and  news, 
read  the  papers,  and  often  look  at  one  another  without  opening 
their  lips.  And  'tis  very  well  they  are  so  mute  :  for  were  they 
all  as  talkative  as  people  of  other  nations,  the  coffee-houses  would 

2 


26  THE  FOUR  GEORGES. 

be  intolerable,  and  there  would  be  no  hearing  what  one  man 
said  where  they  are  so  many.  The  chocolate-house  in  St. 
James's  Street,  where  I  go  every  morning  to  pass  away  the 
time,  is  always  so  full  that  a  man  can  scarce  turn  about  in  it." 

Delightful  as  London  city  was,  King  George  I.  liked  to  be  out 
of  it  as  much  as  ever  he  could ;  and  when  there,  passed  all  his 
time  with  his  Germans.  It  was  with  them  as  with  Blucher,  one 
hundred  years  afterward,  when  the  bold  old  reiter  looked  down 
from  St.  Paul's,  and  sighed  out,  "  Was  fur  Plunder  !"  The  Ger- 
man women  plundered  ;  the  German  secretaries  plundered  ;  the 
German  cooks  and  intendants  plundered ;  even  Mustapha  and 
Mahomet,  the  German  negroes,  had  a  share  of  the  booty.  Take 
what  you  can  get,  was  the  old  monarch's  maxim.  kHe  was  not 
a  lofty  monarch,  certainly :  he  was  not  a  patron  of  the  fine  arts : 
but  he  was  not  a  hypocrite,  he  was  not  revengeful,  he  was  not 
extravagant.  Though  a  despot  in  Hanover,  he  was  a  moderate 
ruler  in  England.  His  aim  was  to  leave  it  to  itself  as  much  as 
possible,  and  to  live  out  of  it  as  much  as  he  could.  His  heart 
was  in  Hanover.  When  taken  ill  on  his  last  journey,  as  he  was 
passing  through  Holland,  he  thrust  his  livid  head  out  of  the 
coach-window,  and  gasped  out,  ^  Osnaburg,  Osnaburg !"  He  was 
more  than  fifty  years  of  age  when  he  came  among  us :  we  took 
him  because  we  wanted  him,  because  he  served  our  turn  ;  we 
laughed  at  his  uncouth  German  ways,  and  sneered  at  him.  He 
took  our  loyalty  for  what  it  was  worth ;  laid  hands  on  what 
money  he  could ;  kept  us  assuredly  from  Popery  and  wooden 
shoes.  I,  for  one,  would  have  been  on  his  side  in  those  days. 
Cynical  and  selfish  as  he  was,  he  was  better  than  a  king  out  of 
St.  Germains,  with  the  French  King's  orders  in  his  poeket,  and 
a  swarm  of  Jesuits  in  his  train. 

The  Fates  are  supposed  to  interest  themselves  about  royal 
personages ;  and  so  this  one  had  omens  and  prophecies  specially 
regarding  him.  He  was  said  to  be  much  disturbed  at  a  prophecy 
that  he  should  die  very  soon  after  his  wife ;  and,  sure  enough, 
pallid  Death,  having  seized  upon  the  luckless  princess  in  her 
castle  of  Ahlden,  presently  pounced  upon  H.M.  King  George  I., 
in  his  traveling  chariot,  on  the  Hanover  road.  What  postillion 
can  outride  that  pale  horseman  ?  It  is  said  George  promised 
one  of  his  left-handed  widows  to  come  to  her  after  death,  if  leave 
were  granted  to  him  to  revisit  the  glimpses  of  the  moon  ;  and 


GEORGE  THE   FIRST.  27 

soon  after  his  demise  a  great  raven  actually  flying  or  hopping  in 
at  the  Duchess  of  Kendal's  window  at  Twickenham,  she  chose 
to  imagine  the  King's  spirit  inhabited  these  plumes,  and  took 
special  care  of  her  sable  visitor.  Affecting  metempsychosis — 
funereal  royal  bird  !  How  pathetic  is  the  idea  of  the  Duchess 
weeping  over  it!  When  this  chaste  addition  to  our  English 
aristocracy  died,  all  her  jewels,  her  plate,  her  plunder,  went  over 
to  her  relations  in  Hanover.  I  wonder  whether  her  heirs  took 
the  bird,  and  whether  it  is  still  flapping  its  wings  over  Herreu- 
hausen  ? 

The  days  are  over  in  England  of  that  strange  religion  of  king- 
worship,  when  priests  flattered  princes  in  the  Temple  of  God ; 
when  servility  was  held  to  be  ennobling  duty ;  when  beauty 
and  youth  tried  eagerly  for  rOyal  favor ;  and  woman's  shame 
was  held  to  be  no  dishonor.  Mended  morals  and  mended  man- 
ners, in  courts  and  people,  are  among  the  priceless  consequences 
of  the  freedom  which  George  I.  came  to  rescue  and  secure.  He 
kept  his  compact  with  his  English  subjects ;  and,  if  he  escaped 
no  more  than  other  men  and  monarchs  from  the  vices  of  his 
age,  at  least  we  may  thank  him  for  preserving  and  transmit- 
ting the  liberties  of  ours.  In  our  free  air  royal  and  humble 
homes  have  alike  been  purified ;  and  Truth,  the  birth-right  of 
high  and  low  among  us,  which  quite  fearlessly  judges  our  great- 
est personages,  can  only  speak  of  them  now  in  words  of  respect 
and  regard. 


GEORGE    THE    SECOND. 


ON  the  afternoon  of  the  14th  of  June,  1727,  two  horsemen 
might  have  been  perceived  galloping  along  the  road  from 
Chelsea  to  Richmond.  The  foremost,  cased  in  the  jack-boots  of 
the  period,  was  a  broad-faced,  jolly-looking,  and  very  corpulent 
cavalier ;  but,  by  the  manner  in  which  he  urged  his  horse,  you 
might  see  that  he  was  a  bold  as  well  as  a  skillful  rider.  Indeed, 
no  man  loved  sport  better ;  and  in  the  hunting  fields  of  Norfolk 
no  squire  rode  more  boldly  after  the  fox,  or  cheered  Ringwood 
and  Sweettips  more  lustily  than  he  who  now  thundered  over  the 
Richmond  road. 

He  speedily  reached  Richmond  Lodge,  and  asked  to  see  the 
owner  of  the  mansion.  The  mistress  of  the  house  and  her  ladies, 
to  whom  our  friend  was  admitted,  said  he  could  not  be  intro- 
duced to  the  master,  however  pressing  the  business  might  be. 
The  master  was  asleep  after  his  dinner ;  he  always  slept  after 
his  dinner :  and  woe  be  to  the  person  who  interrupted  him ! 
Nevertheless,  our  stout  friend  of  the  jack -boots  put  the  affrighted 
ladies  aside,  opened  the  forbidden  door  of  the  bedroom,  wherein 
upon  the  bed  lay  a  little  gentleman ;  and  here  the  eager  messen- 
ger knelt  down  in  his  jack-boots. 

He  on  the  bed  started  up,  and  with  many  oaths  and  a  strong 
German  accent  asked  who  was  there,  and  who  dared  to  disturb 
him  ? 

"  I  am  Sir  Robert  Walpole,"  said  the  messenger.  The  awak- 
ened sleeper  hated  Sir  Robert  Walpofe.  "  I  have  the  honor  to 
announce  to  your  Majesty  that  your  royal  father,  King  George 
I.,  died  at  Osnaburg  on  Saturday  last,  the  10th  instant."       • 

"  Dal  is  one  big  lie  /"  roared  out  bis  sacred  Majesty  King 
George  II. ;  but  Sir  Robert  Walpole  stated  the  fact,  and  from 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND.  29 

that  day  until  three-and-thirty  years  after,  George,  the  second 
of  the  name,  ruled  over  England. 

How  the  king  made  away  with  his  father's  will  under  the 
astonished  nose  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury ;  how  he  was 
a  choleric  little  sovereign ;  how  he  shook  his  fist  in  the  face  of 
his  father's  courtiers ;  how  he  kicked  his  coat  and  his  wig  about 
in  his  rages,  and  called  everybody  thief,  liar,  rascal,  with  Avhom 
he  differed — you  will  read  in  all  the  history  books ;  and  how  he 
speedily  and  shrewdly  reconciled  himself  with  the  bold  minister, 
whom  he  had  hated  during  his  father's  life,  and  by  whom  he  was 
served  during  fifteen  years  of  his  own  with  admirable  prudence, 
fidelity,  and  success.  But  for  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  we  should 
have  had  the  Pretender  back  again.  But  for  his  obstinate  love 
of  peace,  we  should  have  had  wars,  which  the  nation  was  not 
strong  enough  nor  united  enough  to  endure.  But  for  his  reso- 
lute counsels  and  good-humored  resistance,  we  might  have  had 
German  despots  attempting  a  Hanoverian  regimen  over  us  :  we 
should  have  had  revolt,  commotion,  want,  and  tyrannous  mis- 
rule, in  place  of  a  quarter  of  a  century  of  peace,  freedom,  and 
material  prosperity,  such  as  the  country  never  enjoyed,  until 
that  corrupter  of  parliaments,  that  dissolute,  tipsy  cynic,  that 
courageous  lover  of  peace  and  liberty,  that  great  citizen,  patriot, 
and  statesman  governed  it.  In  religion  he  was  little  better  than 
a  heathen ;  cracked  ribald  jokes  at  bigwigs  and  bishops,  and 
laughed  at  High  Church  and  Low.  In  private  life  the  old  pagan 
reveled  in  the  lowest  pleasures ;  he  passed  his  Sundays  tippling 
at  Richmond  ;  and  his  holydays  bawling  after  dogs,  or  boozing 
at  Houghton  with  boors-  over  beef  and  punch.  Pie  cared  for 
letters  no  more  than  his  master  did :  he  judged  human  nature  so 
meanly  that  one  is  ashamed  to  have  to  own  that  he  was  right, 
and  that  men  could  be  corrupted  by  means  so  base.  But,  with 
his  hireling  House  of  Commons,  he  defended  liberty  for  us ;  with 
his  incredulity  he  kept  Church-craft  down.  There  were  parsons 
at  Oxford  as  double-dealing  and  dangerous  as  any  priests  out  of 
Rome,  and  he  routed  them  both.  He  gave  Englishmen  no  con- 
quests, but  he  gave  them^eace,  and  ease,  and  freedom ;  the  three 
per  cents,  nearly  at  par;  and  wheat  at  five  and  six-and-twenty 
shillings  a  quarter. 

It  was  lucky  for  us  that  our  first  Georges  were  not  more  high- 
mmded  men;  especially  fortunate  that  they  loved  Hanover  so 


30  THE   FOUR  .GEORGES. 

much  as  to  leave  England  to  have  her  own  way.  Our  chief 
troubles  began  when  we  got  a  king  who  gloried  in  the  name  of 
Briton,  and,  being  born  in  the  country,  proposed  to  rule  it.  He 
was  no  more  fit  to  govern  England  than  his  grandfather  and 
great-grandfather,  who  did  not  try.  It  was  righting  itself  during 
their  occupation.  The  dangerous,  noble  old  spirit  of  cavalier 
loyalty  was  dying  out ;  the  stately  old  English  High  Church  was 
emptying  itself;  the  questions  dropping,  which,  on  one  side  and 
the  other — the  side  of  loyalty,  prerogative,  church,  and  king ; 
the  side  of  right,  truth,  civil  and  religious  freedom — had  set  gen- 
erations of  brave  men  in  arms.  By  the  time  when  George  III. 
came  to  the  throne,  the  combat  between  loyalty  and  liberty  was 
come  to  an  end ;  and  Charles  Edward,  old,  tipsy,  and  childless, 
was  dying  in  Italy. 

Those  who  are  curious  about  European  Court  history  of  the 
last  age  know  the  memoirs  of  the  Margravine  of  Bayreuth,  and 
what  a  court  was  that  of  Berlin,  where  George  II.'s  cousins  ruled 
sovereign.  Frederick  the  Great's  father  knocked  down  his  sons, 
daughters,  officers  of  state  ;  he  kidnapped  big  men  all  Europe 
over  to  make  grenadiers  of;  his  feasts,  his  parades,  his  wine  par- 
ties, his  tobacco  parties,  are  all  described.  Jonathan  Wild  the 
Great  in  language,  pleasures,  and  behavior,  is  scarcely  more  deli- 
cate than  this  German  sovereign.  Louis  XV.,  his  life,  and  reign, 
and  doings,  are  told  in  a  thousand  French  memoirs.  Our  George 
II.,  at  least,  was  not  a  worse  king  than  his  neighbors.  He 
claimed  and  took  the  royal  exemption  from  doing  right  which 
sovereigns  assumed.  A  dull  little  man  of  low  tastes  he  appears 
to  us  in  England  ;  yet  Hervey  tells  us  that  this  choleric  prince 
was  a  great  sentimentalist,  and  that  his  letters — of  which  he 
wrote  prodigious  quantities — were  quite  dangerous  in  their 
powers  of  fascination.  He  kept  his  sentimentalities  for  his  Ger- 
mans and  his  queen.  With  us  English  he  never  chose  to  be 
familiar.  He  has  been  accused  of  avarice,  yet  he  did  not  give 
much  money,  and  did  not  leave  much  behind  him.  He  did  not 
love  the  fine  arts,  but  he  did  not  pretend  to  love  them.  He  was 
no  more  a  hypocrite  about  religion  than  his  father.  He  judged 
men  by  a  low  standard  ;  yet,  with  such  men  as  were  near  him, 
was  he  wrong  in  judging  as  he  did?  He  readily  detected  lying 
and  flattery,  and  liars  and  flatterers  were  perforce  his  compan- 
ions.    Had  he  been  more  of  a  dupe,  he  might  have  been  more 


GEORGE    THE    SECOND.  31 

amiable.  A  dismal  experience  made  him  cynical.  No  boon  was 
it  to  him  to  be  clear-sighted,  and  see  only  selfishness  and  flattery 
round  about  him.  What  could  Walpole  tell  him  about  his  Lords 
and  Commons,  but  that  they  were  all  venal  ?  Did  not  his  clergy, 
his  courtiers,  bring  him  the  same  story  ?  Dealing  with  men  and 
women  in  his  rude,  skeptical  way,  he  comes  to  doubt  about 
honor,  male  and  female,  about  patriotism,  about  religion.  "  He 
is  wild,  but  he  fights  like  a  man,"  George  I.,  the  taciturn,  said  of 
his  son  and  successor.  Courage  George  II.  certainly  had.  The 
Electoral  Prince,  at  the  head  of  his  father's  contingent,  had 
approved  himself  a  good  and  brave  soldier  under  Eugene  and 
Marlborough.  At  Oudenarde  he  specially  distinguished  himself. 
At  Malplaquet  the  other  claimant  to  the  English  throne  won  but 
little  honor.  There  was  always  a  question  about  James's  courage. 
Neither  then  in  Flanders,  nor  afterward  in  his  own  ancient  king- 
dom of  Scotland,  did  the  luckless  Pretender  show  much  resolution. 
But  dapper  little  George  had  a  famous  tough  spirit  of  his  own, 
and  fought  like  a  Trojan.  He  called  out  his  brother  of  Prussia, 
with  sword  and  pistol ;  and  I  wish,  for  the  interest  of  romancers 
in  general,  that  that  famous  duel  could  have  taken  place.  The 
two  sovereigns  hated  each  other  with  all  their  might ;  their 
seconds  were  appointed ;  the  place  of  meeting  was  settled  ;  and 
the  duel  was  only  prevented  by  strong  representations  made  to 
the  two,  of  the  European  laughter  which  would  have  been 
caused  by  such  a  transaction. 

Whenever  we  hear  of  dapper  George  at  war,  it  is  certain  that 
he  demeaned  himself  like  a  little  man  of  valor.  At  Dettingen 
his  horse  ran  away  with  him,  and  with  difficulty  was  stopped 
from  carrying  him  into  the  enemy's  lines.  The  king,  dismount- 
ing from  the  fiery  quadruped,  said  bravely  :  "  Now  I  know  I 
shall  not  run  away  ;"  and  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  foot, 
drew  his  sword,  brandishing  it  at  the  whole  of  the  French  army, 
and  calling  out  to  his  own  men  to  come  on,  in  bad  English,  but 
with  the  most  famous  pluck  and  spirit.  In  '45,  when  the  Pre- 
tender was  at  Derby,  and  many  people  began  to  look  pale,  the 
king  never  lost  his  courage — not  he.  "  Pooh !  don't  talk  to  me 
that  stuff!"  he  said,  like  a  gallant  little  prince  as  he  was,  and 
never  for  one  moment  allowed  his  equanimity,  or  his  business,  or 
his  pleasures,  or  his  travels  to  be  disturbed.  On  public  festivals 
he  always  appeared  in  the  hat  and  coat  he  wore  on  the  famous 


32  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

day  of  Oudenarde ;  and  the  people  laughed,  but  kindly,  at  the 
odd  old  garment,  for  bravery  never  goes  out  of  fashion. 

In  private  life  the  prince  showed  himself  a  worthy  descendant 
of  his  father.  In  this  respect,  so  much  has  been  said  about  the 
first  G-eorge's  manners,  that  we  need  not  enter  into  a  description 
of  the  son's  German  harem.  In  1705  he  married  a  princess 
remarkable  for  beauty,  for  cleverness,  for  learning,  for  good  tem- 
per— one  of  the  truest  and  fondest  wives  ever  prince  was  blessed 
with,  and  who  loved  him  and  was  faithful  to  him,  and  he,  in  his 
coarse  fashion,  loved  her  to  the  last.  It  must  be  told  to  the 
honor  of  Caroline  of  Anspach,  that,  at  the  time  when  German 
princes  thought  no  more  of  changing  their  religion  than  you  of 
altering  your  cap,  she  refused  to  give  up  Protestantism  for  the 
other  creed,  although  an  Archduke,  afterward  to  be  an  Emperor, 
was  offered  to  her  for  a  bridegroom.  Her  Protestant  relations 
in  Berlin  were  angry  at  her  rebellious  spirit ;  it  was  they  who 
tried  to  convert  her  (it  is  droll  to  think  that  Frederick  the  Great, 
who  had  no  religion  at  all,  was  known  for  a  long  time  in  England 
as  the  Protestant  hero),  and  these  good  Protestants  set  upon 
Caroline  a  certain  Father  Urban,  a  very  skillful  Jesuit,  and  famous 
winner  of  souls.  But  she  routed"  the  Jesuit ;  and  she  refused 
Charles  VI. ;  and  she  married  the  little  Electoral  Prince  of  Han- 
over, whom  she  tended  with  love,  and  with  every  manner  of 
sacrifice,  with  artful  kindness,  with  tender  flattery,  with  entire 
self-devotion,  thenceforward  until  her  life's  end. 

When  George  I.  made  his  first  visit  to  Hanover,  his  son  was 
appointed  regent  during  the  royal  absence.  But  this  honor  was 
never  again  conferred  on  the  Prince  of  Wales ;  he  and  his  father 
fell  out  presently.  On  the  occasion  of  the  christening  of  his 
second  son,  a  royal  row  took  place,  and  the  prince,  shaking  his 
fist  in  the  Duke  of  Newcastle's  face,  called  him  a  rogue,  and 
provoked  his  august  father.  He  and  his  wife  were  turned  out 
of  St.  James's,  and  their  princely  children  taken  from  them,  by 
order  of  the  royal  head  of  the  family.  Father  and  mother  wept 
piteously  at  parting  from  their  little  ones.  The  young  ones  sent 
some  cherries,  with  their  love,  to  papa  and  mamma ;  the  parents 
watered  the  fruit  with  tears.  They  had  no  tears  thirty-five  years 
afterward,  when  Prince  Frederick  died — their  eldest  son,  their 
heir,  their  enemy. 

The  king  called  his  daughter-in-law  "  cette  diablesse  madame 


GEORGE  THE   SECOND.  33 

la  princesse."  The  frequenters  of  the  latter's  court  were  forbid- 
den to  appear  at  the  king's:  their  royal  highnesses  going  to 
Bath,  we  read  how  the  courtiers  followed  them  thither,  and  paid 
that  homage  in  Somersetshire  which  was  forbidden  in  London. 
That  phrase  of  ucette  diablesse  madame  la  princesse"  explains  one 
cause  of  the  wrath  of  her  royal  papa.  She  was  a  very  clever 
woman :  she  had  a  keen  sense  of  humor :  she  had  a  dreadful 
tongue :  she  turned  into  ridicule  the  antiquated  sultan  and  his 
hideous  harem.  She  wrote  savage  letters  about  him  home  to 
members  of  her  family.  So,  driven  out  from  the  royal  presence, 
the  prince  and  princess  set  up  for  themselves  in  Leicester  Fields, 
"  where,"  says  Walpole,  "  the  most  promising  of  the  young  gen- 
tlemen of  the  next  party,  and  the  prettiest  and  liveliest  of  the 
young  ladies,  formed  the  new  court,"  Besides  Leicester  House, 
they  had  their  lodge  at  Bichmond,  frequented  by  some  of  the 
pleasantest  company  of  those  days.  There  were  the  Herveys, 
and  Chesterfield,  and  little  Mr.  Bope  from  Twickenham,  and  with 
him,  sometimes,  the  savage  Dean  of  St.  Patrick's,  and  quite  a 
bevy  of  young  ladies,  whose  pretty  faces  smile  on  us  out  of  his- 
tory. There  was  Lepell,  famous  in  ballad  song ;  and  the  saucy, 
charming  Mary  Bellenden,  who  would  have  none  of  the  Brince 
of  Wales's  fine  compliments,  who  folded  her  arms  across  her 
breast,  and  bade  H.B.H.  keep  off;  and  knocked  his  purse  of 
guineas  into  his  face,  and  told  him  she  was  tired  of  seeing  him 
count  them.  He  was  not  an  august  monarch,  this  Augustus. 
Walpole  tells  us  how,  one  night  at  the  royal  card-table,  the  play- 
ful princesses  pulled  a  chair  away  from  under  Lady  Deloraine, 
who,  in  revenge,  pulled  the  king's  from  under  him,  so  that  his 
Majesty  fell  on  the  carpet.  In  whatever  posture  one  sees  this 
royal  George,  he  is  ludicrous  somehow ;  even  at  Bettingen, 
where  he  fought  so  bravely,  his  figure  is  absurd— calling  out  in 
his  broken  English,  and  lunging  with  his  rapier,  like  a  fencing- 
master.  In  contemporary  caricatures,  George's  son,  "  the  Hero  of 
Culloden,"  is  also  made  an  object  of  considerable  fun,  as  witness 
the  following  picture  of  him  defeated  by  the  French  (1757)  at 
Hastenbeck : 

I  refrain  to  quote  from  Walpole  regarding  George — for  those 
charming  volumes  are  in  the  hands  of  all  who  love  the  gossip  of 
the  last  century.  Nothing  can  be  more  cheery  than  Horace's 
letters.     Fiddles  sing  all  through  them:  wax-lights,  fine  dresses, 

2* 


34  THE   POUR    GEORGES. 

fine  jokes,  fine  plate,  fine  equipages,  glitter  and  sparkle  there: 
never  was  such  a  brillfant,  jigging,  smirking  Vanity  Fair  as  that 
through  which  he  leads  us.  Hervey,  the  nest  great  authority,  is 
a  darker  spirit.  About  him  there  is  something  frightful :  a  few 
years  since  his  heirs  opened  the  lid  of  the  Ickworth  box ;  it  was 
as  if  a  Pompeii  was  opened  to  us — the  last  century  dug  up,  with 
its  temples  and  its  games,  its  chariots,  its  public  places — lupan- 
aria.  Wandering  through  that  city  of  the  dead,  that  dreadfully 
selfish  time,  through  those  godless  intrigues  and  feasts,  through 
those  crowds,  pushing,  and  eager,  and  struggling — rouged,  and 
lying,  and  fawning — I  have  wanted  some  one  to  be  friends  with. 
I  have  said  to  friends  conversant  with  that  history,  "  Show  me 
some  good  person  about  that  court ;  find  me,  among  those  selfish 
courtiers,  those  dissolute,  gay  people,  some  one  being  that  I  can 
love  and  regard.  There  is  that  strutting  little  sultan,  George  II. ; 
there  is  that  hunchbacked,  beetle-browed  Lord  Chesterfield ; 
there  is  John  Hervey,  with  his  deadly  smile,  and  ghastly,  painted 
face — I  hate  them.  There  is  Hoadly,  cringing  from  one  bishop- 
ric to  another  ;  yonder  comes  little  Mr.  Pope,  from  Twickenham, 
with  his  friend,  the  Irish  dean,  in  his  new  cassock,  bowing  too, 
but  with  rage  flashing  from  under  his  bushy  eye-brows,  and  scorn 
and  hate  quivering  in  his  smile.  Can  you  be  fond  of  these? 
Of  Pope  I  might :  at  least  I  might  love  his  genius,  his  wit,  his 
greatness,  his  sensibility — with  a  certain  conviction  that  at  some 
fancied  slight,  some  sneer  which  he  imagined,  he  would  turn 
upon  me  and  stab  me.  Can  you  trust  the  queen  ?  She  is  not 
of  our  order:  their  very  position  makes  kings  and  queens  lonely. 
One  inscrutable  attachment  that  inscrutable  woman  has.  To 
that  she  is  faithful,  through  all  trial,  neglect,  pain,  and  time. 
Save  her  husband,  she  really  cares  for  no  created  being.  She  is 
good  enough  to  her  children,  and  even  fond  enough  of  them  :  but 
she  would  chop  them  all  up  into  little  pieces  to  please  him.  In 
her  intercourse  with  all  around  her,  she  was  perfectly  kind, 
gracious,  and  natural :  but  friends  may  die,  daughters  may  de- 
part, she  will  be  as  perfectly  kind  and  gracious  to  the  next  set. 
If  the  king  wants  her,  she  will  smile  upon  him,  be  she  ever  so 
sad ;  and  walk  with  him,  be  she  ever  so  weary ;  and  laugh  at 
his  brutal  jokes,  be  she  in  ever  so  much  pain  of  body  or  heart. 
Caroline's  devotion  to  her  husband  is  a  prodigy  to  read  of. 
What  charm  had  the  little   man?     What  was   there  in  those 


GEORGE    THE    SECOXD.  35 

wonderful  letters  of  thirty  pages  long,  which  he  wrote  to  her 
when  he  was  absent,  and  to  his  mistresses  at  Hanover,  when  he 
was  in  London  with  his  wife?  Why  did  Caroline,  the  most 
lovely  and  accomplished  princess  of  Germany,  take  a  little  red- 
faced  staring  princeling  for  a  husband,  and  refuse  an  emperor? 
Why,  to  her  last  hour,  did  she  love  him  so  ?  -She  killed  herself 
because  she  loved  him  so.  She  had  the  gout,  and  would  plunge 
her  feet  in  cold  water  in  order  to  walk  with  him.  With  the  film 
of  death  over  her  eyes,  writhing  in  intolerable  pain,  she  yet  had 
a  livid  smile  and  a  gentle  word  for  her  master.  You  have  read 
the  wonderful  history  of  that  death-bed?  How  she  bade  him 
marry  again,  and  the  reply  the  old  king  blubbered  out,  "  Non, 
non :  faurai  des  mattresses."  There  never  was  such  a  ghastly 
farce.  I  watch  the  astonishing  scene — I  stand  by  that  awful 
bedside,  wondering  at  the  ways  in  which  G-od  has  ordained  the 
lives,  loves,  rewards,  successes,  passions,  actions,  ends  of  His  crea- 
tures— and  can't  but  laugh,  in  the  presence  of  death,  and  with 
the  saddest  heart.  In  that  often-quoted  passage  from  Lord  Her- 
vey,  in  which  the  queen's  death-bed  is  described,  the  grotesque 
horror  of  the  details  surpasses  all  satire  :  the  dreadful  humor  of 
the  scene  is  more  terrible  than  Swift's  blackest  pages,  or  Field- 
ing's fiercest  irony.  The  man  who  wrote  the  story  had  some- 
thing diabolical  about  him :  the  terrible  verses  which  Pope  wrote 
respecting  Hervey,  in  one  of  his  own  moods  of  almost  fiendish 
malignity,  I  fear  are  true.  I  am  frightened  as  I  look  back  into 
the  past,  and  fancy  I  behold  that  ghastly,  beautiful  face ;  as  I 
think  of  the  queen  writhing  on  her  death-bed,  and  crying  out, 
"  Pray  I — pray  !" — of  the  royal  old  sinner  by  her  side,  who  kisses 
her  dead  lips  with  frantic  grief,  and  leaves  her  to  sin  more  ;  of 
the  bevy  of  courtly  clergymen,  and  the  archbishop,  whose  prayers 
she  rejects,  and  who  are  obliged,  for  propriety's  sake,  to  shuffle 
off  the  anxious  inquiries  of  the  public,  and  vow  that  her  Majesty 
quitted  this  life  "in  a  heavenly  frame  of  mind."  What  a  life  !— 
to  what  ends  devoted  !  What  a  vanity  of  vanities  1  It  is  a, 
theme  for  another  pulpit  than  the  lecturer's.  Far  a  pulpit  ?— I 
think  the  part  which  pulpits  play  in,  the  deaths  of  kjngs  is  the 
most  ghastly  of  all  the  ceremonial :;  the  lying  eulogies,  the 
blinking  of  disagreeable  truths,  the  sickening  flatteries,  the  simu- 
lated grief,  the  falsehoods  and  sycophancies  all  uttered  in  the 
name  of  Heaven  in  our  State  churchos:  these  monstrous  threno- 


36  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

dies  have  been  sung  from  time  immemorial  over  kings  and 
queens,  good,  bad,  wicked,  licentious.  The  State  parson  must 
bring  out  his  commonplaces ;  his  apparatus  of  rhetorical  black- 
hangings.  Dead  king  or  live  king,  the  clergyman  must  flatter 
him — announce  his  piety  while  living,  and  when  dead,  perform 
the  obsequies  of  "  our  most  religious  and  gracious  king." 

I  read  that  Lady  Yarmouth  (my  most  religious  and  gracious 
king's  favorite)  sold  a  bishopric  to  a  clergyman  for  five  thousand 
pounds.  (She  betted  him  five  thousand  pounds  that  he  would 
not  be  made  a  bishop,  and  he  lost,  and  paid  her.)  Was  he  the 
only  prelate  of  his  time  led  up  by  such  hands  for  consecration  ? 
As  I  peep  into  George  II.'s  St.  James's  I  see  crowds  of  cassocks 
rustling  up  the  back-stairs  of  the  ladies  of  the  court ;  stealthy 
clergy  slipping  purses  into  their  laps  ;  that  godless  old  king  yawn- 
ing under  his  canopy  in  his  Chapel  Royal,  as  the  chaplain  before 
him  is  discoursing.  Discoursing  about  what  ? — about  righteous- 
ness and  judgment  ?  While  the  chaplain  is  preaching  the  king 
is  chattering  in  German  almost  as  loud  as  the  preacher  ;  so  loud 
that  the  clergyman — it  may  be  one  Dr.  Young,  he  who  wrote 
"  Night  Thoughts,"  and  discoursed  on  the  splendors  of  the  stars, 
the  glories  of  Heaven,  and  utter  vanities  of  this  world — actually 
burst  out  crying  in  his  pulpit  because  the  defender  of  the  faith 
and  dispenser  of  bishoprics  would  not  listen  to  him  !  No  won- 
der that  the  clergy  were  corrupt  and  indifferent  amidst  this 
indifference  and  corruption.  No  wonder  that  skeptics  multiplied 
and  morals  degenerated,  so  far  as  they  depended  on  the  influ- 
ence of  such  a  king.  No  wonder  that  Whitfield  cried  out  in  the 
wilderness  that  Wesley  quitted  the  insulted  temple  to  pray  on 
the  hill-side.  1  look  with  reverence  on  those  men  at  that  time. 
Which  is  the  sublimer  spectacle — the  good  John  Wesley,  sur- 
rounded by  his  congregation  of  miners  at  the  pit's  mouth,  or 
the  queen's  chaplains  mumbling  through  their  morning  office  in 
their  ante-room,  under  the  picture  of  the  great  Venus,  with  the 
door  opened  into  the  adjoining  chamber,  where  the  queen  is 
dressing,  talking  scandal  to  Lord  Hervey,  on  uttering  sneers  at 
Lady  Suffolk,  who  is  kneeling  with  the  basin  at  her  mistress's 
side  ?  I  say  I  am  scared  as  I  look  round  at  this  society — at  this 
king,  at  these  courtiers,  at  these  politicians,  at  these  bishops — at 
this  flaunting  vice  and  levity.  Whereabouts  in  this  court  is  the 
honest  man  ?     Where  is  the  pure  person  one  may  like  ?     The 


GEOEGE   THE    SECOND.  37 

air  stifles  one  with  its  sickly  perfumes.  There  are  some  old- 
world  follies  and  some  absurd  ceremonials  about  our  court  of  the 
present  day,  which  I  laugh  at,  but  as  an  Englishman,  contrasting 
it  with  the  past,  shall  I  not  acknowledge  the  change  of  to-day  ? 
As  the  mistress  of  St.  James's  passes  me  now  I  salute  the  sove- 
reign, wise,  moderate,  exemplary  of  life ;  the  good  mother ;  the 
good  wife;  the  accomplished  lady;  the  enlightened  friend  of 
art ;  the  tender  sympathizer  in  her  people's  glories  and  sorrows. 

Of  all  the  court  of  George  and  Caroline  I  find  no  one  but 
Lady  Suffolk  with  whom  it  seems  pleasant  and  kindly  to  hold 
converse.  Even  the  misogynist  Croker,  who  edited  her  letters, 
loves  her,  and  has  that  regard  for  her  with  which  her  sweet 
graciousness  seems  to  have  inspired  almost  all  men  and  some 
women  who  came  near  her.  I  have  noted  many  little  traits 
which  go  to  prove  the  charms  of  her  character  (it  is  not  merely 
because  she  is  charming,  but  because  she  is  characteristic,  that  I 
allude  to  her).  She  writes  delightfully  sober  letters.  Address- 
ing Mr.  Gay  at  Tunbridge  (he  was,  you  know,  a  poet,  penniless 
and  in  disgrace),  she  says :  "  The  place  you  are  in  has  strangely 
filled  your  head  with  physicians  and  cures  ;  but,  take  my  word 
for  it,  many  a  fine  lady  has  gone  there  to  drink  the  waters  with- 
out being  sick ;  and  many  a  man  has  complained  of  the  loss  of 
his  heart,  who  had  it  in  his  own  possession.  I  desire  you  will 
keep  yours ;  for  I  shall  not  be  very  fond  of  a  friend  without  one, 
and  I  have  a  great  mind  you  should  be  in  the  number  of 
mine." 

When  Lord  Peterborough  was  seventy  years  old,  that  indomi- 
table youth  addressed  some  flaming  love,  or  rather  gallantry,  let- 
ters to  Mrs.  Howard — curious  relics  they  are  of  the  romantic 
manner  of  wooing  sometimes  in  use  in  those  days.  It  is  not 
passion  ;  it  is  not  love  ;  it  is  gallantry  :  a  mixture  of  earnest  and 
acting ;  high-flown  compliments,  profound  bows,  vows,  sighs,  and 
ogles,  in  the  manner  of  the  Clelie  romances,  and  Millamont  and 
Doricourt  in  the  comedy.  There  was  a  vast  elaboration  of  cere- 
monies and  etiquette,  of  raptures — a  regulated  form  for  kneeling 
and  wooing  which  has  quite  passed  out  of  our  downright  man- 
ners. Henrietta  Howard  accepted  the  noble  old  earl's  philander- 
ing; answered  the  queer  love-letters  with  due  acknowledgment; 
made  a  profound  courtesy  to  Peterborough's  profound  bow  ;  and 
got  John  Gay  to  help  her  in  the  composition  of  her  letters  in 


38  THE   FOUR   GEOEGES. 

reply  to  her  old  knight.  He  wrote  her  charming  verses,  in 
which  there  was  truth  as  well  as  grace.  "  Oh,  wonderful  crea- 
ture 1"  he  writes : 

"  0  wonderful  creature,  a  woman  of  reason  ! 
Never  grave  out  of  pride,  never  gay  out  of  season ! 
When  so  easy  to  guess  who  this  angel  should  be, 
Who  would  think  Mrs.  Howard  ne'er  dreamt  it  was  she  ?" 

The  great  Mr.  Pope  also  celebrated  her  in  lines  not  less  pleasant, 
and  painted  a  portrait  of  what  must  certainly  have  been  a 
delightful  lady : 

"  I  know  a  thing  that's  most  uncommon — 

Envy,  be  silent  and  attend! — 
I  know  a  reasonable  woman, 
Handsome,  yet  witty,  and  a  friend  : 

"  Not  warp'd  by  passion,  aw'd  by  rumor, 

Not  grave  through  pride,  or  gay  through  folly  : 
An  equal  mixture  of  good  humor 
And  exquisite  soft  melancholy. 

"Has  she  no  faults,  then  (Envy  says),  sir? 
Yes,  she  has  one,  I  must  aver — 
When  all  the  world  conspires  to  praise  her, 
The  woman's  deaf,  and  does  not  hear !" 

Even  the  women  concurred  in  praising  and  loving  her.  The 
Duchess  of  Queensberry  bears  testimony  to  her  amiable  qualities 
and  writes  to  her :  "  I  tell  you  so  and  so,  because  you  love  chil- 
dren, and  to  have  children  love  you."  The  beautiful,  jolly  Mary 
Bellenden,  represented  by  contemporaries  as  "  the  most  perfect 
creature  ever  known,"  writes  very  pleasantly  to  her  "  dear  How- 
ard," her  "  dear  Swiss,"  from  the  country,  whither  Mary  had 
retired  after  her  marriage,  and  when  she  gave  up  being  a  maid 
of  honor.  "  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Howard  ?"  Mary  breaks 
out.  "  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Howard  ?  that  is  all  I  have  to  say. 
This  afternoon  I  am  taken  with  a  fit  of  writing  ;  but  as  to  mat- 
ter, I  have  nothing  better  to  entertain  you  than  news  of  my 
farm.  I  therefore  give  you  the  following  list  of  the  stock  of  eat- 
ables that  I  am  fatting  for  my  private  tooth.  It  is  well  known 
to  the  whole  county  of  Kent  that  I  have  four  fat  calves,  two  fat 
hogs,  fit  for  killing,  twelve  promising  black  pigs,  two  young 
chickens,  three  line  geese,  with  thirteen  eggs  under  each  (seve- 
ral being  duck-eggs,  else  the  others  do  not  come  to  maturity)  • 


GEORGE   THE    SECCXND.  39 

• 

all  this,  with  rabbits,  and  pigeons,  and  carp  in  plenty,  beef  and 
mutton  at  reasonable  rates.  Now,  Howard,  if  you  have  a  mind 
to  stick  a  knife  into  any  thing  I  have  named,  say  so !" 

A  jolly  set  must  they  have  been  those  maids  of  honor.  Pope 
introduces  us  to  a  whole  bevy  of  them  in  a  pleasant  letter.  "  I 
went,"  he  says,  "  by  water  to  Hampton  Court,  and  met  the 
Prince,  with  all  his  ladies,  on  horseback,  coming  from  hunting. 
Mrs.  Bellenden  and  Mrs.  Lepell  took  me  into  protection,  con- 
trary to  the  laws  against  harboring  papists,  and  gave  me  a  din- 
ner, with  something  I  liked  better,  an  opportunity  of  conversa- 
tion with  Mrs.  Howard.  We  all  agreed  that  the  life  of  a  maid 
of  honor  was  of  all  things  the  most  miserable,  and  wished  that 
all  women  who  envied  it  had  a  specimen  of  it.  To  eat  West- 
phalia ham  of  a  morning,  ride  over  hedges  and  ditches  on  bor- 
rowed hacks,  come  home  in  the  heat  of  the  day  with  a  fever, 
and  (what  is  worse  a  hundred  times)  with  a  red  mark  on  the 
forehead  from  an  uneasy  hat — all  this  may  qualify  them  to  make 
excellent  wives  for  hunters.  As  soon  as  they  wipe  off  the  heat 
of  the  day,  they  must  simper  an  hour  and  catch  cold  in  the 
princess's  apartment ;  from  thence  to  dinner  with  what  appetite 
they  may;  and  after  that  till  midnight,  work,  walk,  or  think 
which  way  they  please.  No  lone  house  in  Wales,  with  a  moun- 
tain and  rookery,  is  more  contemplative  than  this  Court.  Miss 
Lepell  walked  with  me  three  or  four  hours  by  moonlight,  and 
we  met  no  creature  of  any  quality  but  the  king,  who  gave 
audience  to  the  vice-chamberlain  all  alone  under  the  garden 
wall." 

I  fancy  it  was  a  merrier  England,  that  of  our  ancestors,  than 
the  island  which  we  inhabit.  People  high  and  low  amused 
themselves  very  much  more.  I  have  calculated  the  manner  in 
which  statesmen  and  persons  of  condition  passed  their  time — 
and  what  with  drinking,  and  dining,  and  supping,  and  cards, 
wonder  how  they  got  through  their  business  at  all.  They  played 
all  sorts  of  games,  which,  with  the  exception  of  cricket  and  ten- 
nis, have  quite  gone  out  of  our  manners  now.  In  the  old  prints 
of  St.  James's  Park,  you  still  see  the  marks  along  the  walk,  to 
note  the  balls  when  the  court  played  at  Mall.  Fancy  Birdcage 
Walk  now  so  laid  out,  and  Lord  John  and  Lord  Palmerston 
knocking  balls  up  and  down  the  avenue!  Most  of  those  jolly 
sports  belong  to  the  past,  and   the   good  old  games  of  England 


40  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

are  only  to  be  found  in  old  novels,  in  old  ballads,  or  the  columns 
of  dingy  old  newspapers,  which  say  how  a  main  of  cocks  is  to 
be  fought  at  Winchester  between  the  Winchester  men  and  the 
Hampton  men ;  or  how  the  Cornwall  men  and  the  Devon  men 
are  going  to  hold  a  great  wrestling-match  at  Totness,  and  so  on. 

A  hundred  and  twenty  years  ago  there  were  not  only  country 
towns  in  England,  but  people  who  inhabited  them.  We  were 
very  much  more  gregarious ;  we  were  amused  by  very  simple 
pleasures.  Every  town  had  its  fair,  every  village  its  wake.  The 
old  poets  have  sung  a  hundred  jolly  ditties  about  great  cudgel- 
playings,  famous  grinning  through  horse-collars,  great  Maypole 
meetings,  and  morris-dances.  The  girls  used  to  run  races  clad 
in  very  light  attire ;  and  the  kind  gentry  and  the  good  parsons 
thought  no  shame  in  looking  on.  Dancing  bears  went  about  the 
country  with  pipe  and  tabor.  Certain  well-known  tunes  were 
sung  all  over  the  land  for  hundreds  of  years,  and  high  and  low 
rejoiced  in  that  simple  music.  Gentlemen  who  wished  to  enter- 
tain their  female  friends  constantly  sent  for  a  band.  When  Beau 
Fielding,  a  mighty  fine  gentleman,  was  courting  the  lady  whom 
he  married,  he  treated  her  and  her  companion  at  his  lodgings  to 
a  supper  from  the  tavern,  and  after  supper  they  sent  out  for  a 
fiddler — three  ^of  them.  Fancy  the  three,  in  a  great  wainscoted 
room,  in  Covent  Garden  or  Soho,  lighted  by  two  or  three  candles 
in  silver  sconces,  some  grapes  and  a  bottle  of  Florence  wine  on 
the  table,  and  the  honest  fiddler  playing  old  tunes  in  quaint  old 
minor  keys,  as  the  Beau  takes  out  one  lady  after  the  other,  and 
solemnly  dances  with  her ! 

The  very  great  folks,  young  noblemen,  with  their  governors, 
and  the  like,  went  abroad  and  made  the  grand  tour  ;  the  home 
satirists  jeered  at  the  Frenchified  and  Italian  ways  which  they 
brought  back ;  but  the  greater  number  of  people  never  left  the 
country.  The  jolly  squire  often  had  never  been  twenty  miles 
from  home.  Those  who  did  go  went  to  the  baths,  to  Harrogate, 
or  Scarborough,  or  Bath,  or  Epsom.  Old  letters  are  full  of  these 
places  of  pleasure.  Gay  writes  to  us  about  the  fiddlers  at  Tun- 
bridge  ;  of  the  ladies  having  merry  little  private  balls  among 
themselves ;  and  the  gentlemen  entertaining  them  by  turns  with 
tea  or  music.  One  of  the  young  beauties  whom  he  met  did  not 
care  for  tea :  "  We  have  a  young  lady  here,"  he  says,  "  that  is 
very  particular  in  her  desires.    I  have  known  some  young  ladies 


GEORGE   THE    SECOXD.  41 

who,  if  ever  they  prayed,  would  ask  for  some  equipage  or  title, 
a  husband  or  matadores ;  but  this  lady,  who  is  but  seventeen, 
and  has  thirty  thousand  pounds  to  her  fortune,  places  all  her 
wishes  on  a  pot  of  good  ale.  When  her  friends,  for  the  sake  of 
her  shape  and  complexion,  would  dissuade  her  from  it,  she 
answers,  with  the  truest  sincerity,  that  by  the  loss  of  shape  and 
complexion  she  could  only  lose  a  husband,  whereas  ale  is  her 
passion." 

Every  country  town  had  its  assembly-room — moldy  old  tene- 
ments, which  we  may  still  see  in  deserted  inn-yards,  in  decayed 
provincial  cities,  out  of  which  the  great  wen  of  London  has 
sucked  all  the  life.  York,  at  assize  times,  and  throughout  the 
winter,  harbored  a  large  society  of  northern  gentry.  Shrews- 
bury was  celebrated  for  its  festivities.  At  Newmarket  I  read  ot 
"  a  vast  deal  of  good  company,  besides  rogues  and  blacklegs ;" 
at  Norwich,  of  two  assemblies,  with  a  prodigious  crowd  in  the 
hall,  the  rooms,  and  the  gallery.  In  Cheshire  (it  is  a  maid  of 
honor  of  Queen  Caroline  who  writes,  and  who  is  longing  to  be 
back  at  Hampton  Court  and  the  fun  there)  I  peep  into  a  country 
house,  and  see  a  very  merry  party :  "  We  meet  in  the  work- 
room before  nine,  eat  and  break  a  joke  or  two  till  twelve,  then 
we  repair  to  our  own  chambers  and  make  ourselves  ready,  for  it 
can  not  be  called  dressing.  At  noon  the  great  bell  fetches  us 
into  a  parlor,  adorned  with  all  sorts  of  fine  arms,  poisoned  darts, 
several  pair  of  old  boots  and  shoes  worn  by  men  of  might,  with 
the  stirrups  of  King  Charles  I.,  taken  from  him  at  Edgehill " — 
and  there  they  have  their  dinner,  after  which  comes  dancing  and 
supper. 

As  for  Bath,  all  history  went  and  bathed  and  drank  there. 
George  II.  and  his  Queen,  Prince  Frederick  and  his  Court,  scarce 
a  character  one  can  mention  in  the  early  last  century,  but  was 
seen  in  that  famous  Pump-room  where  Beau  Nash  presided,  and 
his  picture  hung  between  the  busts  of  Newton  and  Pope : 

"This  picture,  placed  these  busts  between, 
Gives  satire  all  its  strength  ; 
Wisdom  and  Wit  are  little  seen, 
But  Folly  at  fuU  length." 

I  should  like  to  have  seen  the  Folly.  It  was  a  splendid,  em- 
broidered, beruffled,  snuff-boxed,  red-heeled,  impertinent  Folly, 
and  knew  how  to  make  itself  respected.     I  should  like  to  have 


42  THE   FOUR    GEORGES. 

seen  that  noble  old  madcap  Peterborough  in  his  boots  (lie  actu- 
tually  had  the  audacity  to  walk  about  Bath  in  boots  !),  with  his 
blue  ribbon  and  stars,  and  a  cabbage  under  each  arm,  and  a 
chicken  in  his  hand,  which  he  had  been  cheapening  for  his  din- 
ner. Chesterfield  came  there  many  a  time  and  gambled  for 
hundreds,  and  grinned  through  his  gout.  Mary  "Wortley  was 
there,  young  and  beautiful ;  and  Mary  Wortley,  old,  hideous, 
and  snuffy.  Miss  Chudleigh  came  there,  slipping  away  from  one 
husband  and  on  the  look-out  for  another.  Walpole  passed  many 
a  day  there ;  sickly,  supercilious,  absurdly  dandified,  and  affected ; 
with  a  brilliant  wit,  a  delightful  sensibility;  and,  for  his  friends, 
a  most  tender,  generous,  and  faithful  heart.  And  if  you  and  I 
had  been  alive  then,  and  strolling  down  Milsom  Street — hush  1 
we  should  have  taken  our  hats  off,  as  an  awful,  long,  lean,  gaunt 
figure,  swathed  in  flannels,  passed  by  in  its  chair,  and  a  livid 
face  looked  out  from  the  window — great  fierce  eyes  staring  from 
under  a  bushy,  powdered  wig,  a  terrible  frown,  a  terrible  Roman 
nose — and  we  whisper  to  one  another,  "  There  he  is  !  There's 
the  great  commoner!  There  is  Mr.  Pitt  1"  As  we  walk  away, 
the  abbey  bells  are  set  a-ringing ;  and  we  meet  our  testy  friend 
Toby  Smollett,  on  the  arm  of  James  Quin  the  actor,  who  tells  us 
that  the  bells  ring  for  Mr.  Bullock,  an  eminent  cow-keeper  from 
Tottenham,  who  has  just  arrived  to  drink  the  waters;  and  Toby 
shakes  his  cane  at  the  door  of  Colonel  Ringworm — the  Creole 
gentleman's  lodgings  next  to  his  own — where  the  Colonel's  two 
negroes  are  practicing  on  the  French-horn. 

When  we  try  to  recall  social  England,  we  must  fancy  it  play- 
ing at  cards  for  many  hours  every  day.  The  custom  is  well- 
nigh  gone  out  among  us  now,  but  fifty  years  ago  was  general, 
fifty  years  before  that  almost  universal,  in  the  country.  "Gam- 
ing has  become  so  much  the  fashion,"  writes  Seymour,  the  author 
of  the  Court  Gamester,  "  that  he  who  in  company  should  be 
ignorant  of  the  games  in  vogue  would  be  reckoned  low-bred, 
and  hardly  fit  for  conversation."  There  were  cards  everywhere. 
It  was  considered  ill-bred  to  read  in  company.  "  Books  were 
not  fit  articles  for  drawing-rooms,"  old  ladies  used  to  say.-  People 
were  jealous,  as  it  were,  and  angry  with  them.  You  will  find 
in  Hervey  that  George  II.  was  always  furious  at  the  sight  of 
books,  and  his  queen,  who  loved  reading,  had  to  practice  it  in 
secret  in  her  closet.     But  cards  were  the  resource  of  all  the 


GEORGE    THE    SECOND.  43 

world.  Every  night,  for  hours,  kings  and  queens  of  England 
sat  down  and  handled  their  majesties  of  spades  and  diamonds. . 
In  European  Courts,  I  believe  the  practice  still  remains — not  for 
gambling,  but  for  pastime.  Our  ancestors  generally  adopted  it. 
"  Books !  prithee,  don't  talk  to  me  about  books,"  said  old  Sarah 
Marlborough.  "  The  only  books  I  know  are  men  and  cards." 
"  Dear  old  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  sent  all  his  tenants  a  string  of 
hogs'  puddings  and  a  pack  of  cards  at  Christmas,"  says  the  Sjiec- 
talor,  wishing  to  depict  a  kind  landlord.  One  of  the  good  old 
lady  writers  in  whose  letters  I  have  been  dipping,  cries  out, 
"  Sure,  cards  have  kept  us  women  from  a  great  deal  of  scan- 
dal !"  Wise  old  Johnson  regretted  that  he  had  not  learned  to 
play.  "  It  is  very  useful  in  life,"  he  says;  "it  generates  kind- 
ness and  consolidates  society."  David  Hume  never  went  to  bed 
"without  his  whist.  We  have  Walpole,  in  one  of  his  letters,  in  a 
transport  of  gratitude  for  the  cards.  "  I  shall  build  an  altar  to 
Pam,"  says  he,  in  his  pleasant,  dandified  way,  "  for  the  escape 
of  my  charming  Duchess  of  Grafton."  The  duchess  had  been 
playing  cards  at  Rome  when  she  ought  to  have  been  at  a  car- 
dinal's concert,  where  the  floor  fell  in,  and  all  the  monsignors 
were  precipitated  into  the  cellar.  Even  the  jSTonconformist 
clergy  looked  not  unkindly  on  the  practice.  "  I  do  not  think," 
says  one  of  them,  "  that  honest  Martin  Luther  committed  sin  by 
playing  at  backgammon  for  an  hour  or  two  after  dinner,  in 
order,  by  unbending  his  mind,  to  promote  digestion."  As  for 
the  High  Church  parsons,  they  all  played,  bishops  and  all.  On 
Twelfth-day  the  Court  used  to  play  in  state.  "  This  being 
Twelfth-day,  his  Majesty,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  the  Knights 
Companions  of  the  Garter,  Thistle,  and  Bath  appeared  in  the 
collars  of  their  respective  orders.  Their  Majesties,  the  Prince 
of  Wales,  and  three  eldest  Princesses,  went  to  the  Chapel  Royal, 
preceded  by  the  heralds.  The  Duke  of  Manchester  carried  the 
sword  of  State.  The  king  and  prince  made  offering  at  the  altar 
of  gold,  frankincense,  and  myrrh,  according  to  the  annual  cus- 
tum.  At  night  their  Majesties  played  at  hazard  with  the  nobil- 
ity, for  the  benefit  of  the  groom-porter ;  and  'twas  said  the  king 
won  six  hundred  guineas ;  the  queen,  three  hundred  and  sixty  ; 
Princess  Amelia,  twenty;  Princess  Caroline,  ten;  the  Duke  of 
Grafton  and  the  Earl  of  Portmore,  several  thousands." 

Let  us  glance  at  the  same  chronicle,  which  is  of  the  year  1731, 


44  THE    FOUR    GEORGES. 

and  see  how  others  of  our  forefathers  were  engaged.  "  Cork, 
15th  January. — This  day,  one  Tim  Croneen  was,  for  the  murder 
and  robbery  of  Mr.  St.  Leger  and  his  wife,  sentenced  to  be 
hanged  two  minutes,  then  his  head  to  be  cut  off,  and  his  body 
divided  in  four  quarters,  to  be  placed  in  four  cross-ways.  He 
was  servant  to  Mr.  St.  Leger,  and  committed  the  murder  with 
the  privity  of  the  servant-maid,  who  was  sentenced  to  be  burned  ; 
also  of  the  gardener,  whom  he  knocked  on  the  head,  to  deprive 
him  of  his  share  of  the  booty." 

"  January  3. — A  post-boy  was  shot  by  an  Irish  gentleman  on 
the  road  near  Stone,  in  Staffordshire,  who  died  in  two  days,  for 
which  the  gentleman  was  imprisoned." 

"  A  poor  man  was  found  hanging  in  a  gentleman's  stables,  at 
Bungay,  in  Norfolk,  by  a  person  who  cut  him  down,  and  running 
for  assistance,  left  his  penknife  behind  him.  The  poor  man,  recov- 
ering, cut  his  throat  with  the  knife ;  and  a  river  being  nigh, 
jumped  into  it;  but  company  coming,  he  was  dragged  out  alive, 
and  was  like  to  remain  so." 

"  The  Honorable  Thomas  Finch,  brother  to  the  Earl  of  Not- 
tingham, is  appointed  embassador  at  the  Hague,  in  the  room  of 
the  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  who  is  on  his  return  home"." 

"  William  Cowper,  Esq.,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  John  Cowper.  chap- 
lain in  ordinary  to  her  Majesty,  and  rector  of  Great  Berkhamp- 
stead,  in  the  county  of  Hertford,  are  appointed  clerks  of  the 
commissioners  of  bankruptcy." 

"  Charles  Creagh,  Esq.,  and Macnamara,  Esq.,  between 

whom  an  old  grudge  of  three  years  had  subsisted,  which  had  oc- 
casioned their  being  bound  over  about  fifty  times  for  breaking 
the  peace,  meeting  in  company  with  Mr.  Eyres,  of  Galloway, 
they  discharged  their  pistols,  and  all  three  were  killed  on  the 
spot — to  the  great  joy  of  their  peaceful  neighbors,  say  the  Irish 
papers." 

"  Wheat  is  twenty-six  shillings  to  twenty-eight  shillings,  and 
barley,  twenty  shillings  to  twenty-two  shillings  a  quarter;  three 
per  cents.,  ninety-two ;  best  loaf  sugar,  nine  and  a  quarter  pence ; 
Bohea,  twelve  shillings,  to  fourteen  shillings;  Pekoe,  eighteen 
shillings,  and  Hyson,  thirty-five  shillings,  per  pound." 

"  At  Exon  was  celebrated,  with  great  magnificence,  the  birth- 
day of  the  son  of  Sir  W.  Courtney,  Bart,  at  which  more  than 
one  thousand  persons  were  present.     A  bullock  was  roasted 


GEOEGE   THE   SECOND.  45 

■whole  ;  a  butt  of  wine  and  several  tuns  of  beer  and  cider  were 
given  to  the  populace.  At  the  same  time  Sir  William  delivered 
to  his  son,  then  of  age,  Powdram  Castle,  and  a  great  estate." 

"  Charlesworth  and  Cox,  two  solicitors,  convicted  of  forgery, 
stood  on  the  pillory  at  the  Eoyal  Exchange.  The  first  was 
severely  handled  by  the  populace,  but  the  other  was  very  much 
favored,  and  protected  by  six  or  seven  fellows,  who  got  on  the 
pillory  to  protect  him  from  the  insults  of  the  mob." 

"  A  boy  killed  by  falling  upon  iron  spikes,  from  a  lamp-post, 
which  he  climbed  to  see  Mother  Needham  stand  in  the  pillory." 

"  Mary  Lynn  was  burned  to  ashes  at  the  stake,  for  being  con- 
cerned in  the  murder  of  her  mistress." 

"  Alexander  Russell,  the  foot-soldier,  who  was  capitally  con- 
victed for  a  street  robbery  in  January  sessions,  was  reprieved  for 
transportation ;  but  having  an  estate  fallen  to  him,  obtained  a 
free  pardon." 

"  The  Lord  John  Russell  married  to  the  Lady  Diana  Spencer, 
at  Marlborough  House.  He  has  a  fortune  of  thirty-thousand 
pounds  down,  and  is  to  have  one  hundred  thousand  pounds  at 
the  death  of  the  Duchess  Dowager  of  Marlborough,  his  grand- 
mother." 

"  March  1  being  the  anniversary  of  the  Queen's  birthday,  when 
her  Majesty  entered  the  forty-ninth  year  of  her  age,  there  was  a 
splendid  appearance  of  nobility  at  St.  James's.  Her  Majesty 
was  magnificently  dressed,  and  wore  a  flowered  muslin  head- 
edging,  as  did  also  her  Royal  Highness.  The  Lord  Portmore 
was  said  to  have  had  the  richest  dress;  though  an  Italian  count 
had  twenty-four  diamonds  instead  of  buttons." 

New  clothes  on  the  birth-day  were  the  fashion  for  all  loyal 
people.  Swift  mentions  the  custom  several  times.  Walpole 
is  constantly  speaking  of  it;  laughing  at  the  practice,  but 
having  the  very  finest  clothes  from  Paris,  nevertheless.  If  the 
king  and  queen  were  unpopular,  there  were  very  few  new 
clothes  at  the  drawing-room.  In  a  paper  in  the  True  Patriot,  No. 
3,  written  to  attack  the  Pretender,  the  Scotch,  French,  and  Pop- 
ery, Fielding  supposes  the  Scotch  and  the  Pretender  in  possession 
of  London,  and  himself  about  to  be  hanged  for  loyalty — when, 
j-ust  as  the  rope  is  round  his  neck,  he  says:  "My  little  girl 
entered  my  bedchamber,  and  put  an  end  to  my  dream  by  pulling 
open  my  eyes,  and  telling  me  that  the  tailor  had  just  brought 


46  THE    FOUR    GEORGES. 

home  my  clothes  for  his  Majesty's  birthday."  In  his  "  Temple 
Beau,"  the  beau  is  dunned  "  for  a  birthday  suit  of  velvet,  forty 
pounds."     Be  sure  that  Mr.  Harry  Fielding  was  dunned  too. 

The  public  days,  no  doubt,  were  splendid,  but  the  private 
Court  life  must  have  been  awfully  wearisome.  "  I  will  not 
trouble  you,"  writes  Hervey  to  Lady  Sundon,  "  with  any  account 
of  our  occupations  at  Hampton  Court.  No  mill-horse  ever  went 
in  a  more  constant  track,  or  a  more  unchanging  circle;  so  that  by 
the  assistance  of  an  almanac  for  the  day  of  the  week,  and  a  watch 
for  the  hour  of  the  day,  you  may  inform  yourself  fully,  without 
any  other  intelligence  but  your  memory,  of  every  transaction 
within  the  verge  of  the  Court.  Walking,  chaises,  levees,  and 
audiences  fill  up  the  morning.  At  night  the  king  plays  at  com- 
merce and  backgammon,  and  the  queen  at  quadrille,  where  poor 
Lady  Charlotte  runs  her  usual  nightly  gauntlet,  the  queen  pulling 
her  hood,  and  the  Princess  Boyal  rapping  her  knuckles.  The 
Duke  of  Grafton  takes  his  nightly  opiate  of  lottery,  and  sleeps 
as  usual  between  the  Princesses  Amelia  and  Caroline.  Lord 
Grantham  strolls  from  one  room  to  another  (as  Dryden  saj's), 
like  some  discontented  ghost  that  oft  appears,  and  is  forbid  to 
speak;  and  stirs  himself  about  as  people  stir  a  fire,  not  with  any 
design,  but  in  hopes  to  make  it  burn  brisker.  At  last  the  king 
gets  up  ;  the  pool  finishes ;  and  every  body  has  their  dismission. 
Their  Majesties  retire  to  Lady  Charlotte  anil  my  Lord  Liiford ; 
my  Lord  Grantham  to  Lady  Frances  and  Mr.  Clark ;  some  to 
supper,  some  to  bed  ;  and  thus  the  evening  and  the  morning 
make  the  day." 

The  king's  fondness  for  Hanover  occasioned  all  sorts  of  rough 
jokes  among  his  English  subjects,  to  whom  sauer-kraut  and  sau- 
sages have  ever  been  ridiculous  objects.  When  our  present 
Prince  Consort  came  among  us,  the  people  bawled  out  songs  in 
the  streets  indicative  of  the  absurdity  of  Germany  in  general. 
The  sausage-shops  produced  enormous  sausages,  which  we  might 
suppose  were  the  daily  food  and  delight  of  German  princes.  I 
remember  the  caricatures  at  the  marriage  of  Prince  Leopold  with 
the  Princess  Charlotte.  The  bridegroom  was  drawn  in  rags.  George 
IIL's  wife  was  called  by  the  people  a  beggarly  German  duchess ; 
the  British  idea  being  that  all  princes  were  beggarly  except 
British  princes.  King  George  paid  us  back.  He  thought  there 
were  no  manners   out  of  Germany.     Sarah  Marlborough  once 


GEOTJGE   THE    SECOND.  47 

coming  to  visit  the  princess,  while  her  Royal  Highness  was  whip- 
ping one  of  the  roaring  royal  children,  "  Ah,"  says  George,  who 
was  standing  by,  "  you  have  no  good  manners  in  England, 
because  you  are  not  properly  brought  up  when  you  are  young." 
He  insisted  that  no  English  cooks  could  roast,  no  English  coach- 
man could  drive  :  he  actually  questioned  the  superiority  of  our 
nobility,  our  horses,  ami  our  roast  beef  ! 

While  he  was  away  from  his  beloved  Hanover,  every  thing 
remained  there  exactly  as  in  the  prince's  presence.  There  were 
eight  hundred  horses  in  the  stables,  there  was  all  the  apparatus 
of  chamberlains,  court-marshals,  and  equerries;  and  court  assem- 
blies where  held  every  Saturday,  where  all  the  nobility  of  Han- 
over assembled  at  what  I  can't  but  think  a  fine  and  touching 
ceremony.  A  large  arm-chair  was  placed  in  the  assembly-room, 
and  on  it  the  king's  portrait.  The  nobility  advanced,  and  made 
a  bow  to  the  arm-chair,  and  to  the  image  which  Nebuchad- 
nezzar the  king  had  set  up  ;  and  spoke  under  their  voices  before 
the  august  picture,  just  as  they  would  have  done  had  the  King 
Churfiirst  been  present  himself. 

He  was  always  going  back  to  Hanover.  In  the  year  1729  he 
went  for  two  whole  years,  during  which  Caroline  reigned  for 
him  in  England,  and  he  was  not  in  the  least  missed  by  his  Brit- 
ish subjects-  He  went  again  in  '35  and  '36  ;  and  between  the 
years  1740  and  1755  was  no  less  than  eight  times  on  the  Conti- 
nent, which  amusement  he  was  obliged  to  give  up  at  the  outbreak 
of  the  Seven  Years'  War.  Here  every  day's  amusement  was 
the  same.  "Our  life  is  as  uniform  as  that  of  a  monastery,"  writes 
a  courtier  whom  Vehse  quotes.  "  Every  morning  at  eleven,  and 
every  evening  at  six,  we  drive  in  the  heat  to  Herrenhausen, 
through  an  enormous  linden  avenue,  and  twice  a  clay  cover  our 
coats  and  coaches  with  dust.  In  the  king's  society  there  is  never 
the  least  change.  At  table,  and  at  cards,  he  sees  always  the  same 
faces,  and  at  the  end  of  the  game  retires  into  his  chamber.  Twice 
a  week  there  is  a  French  theater ;  the  other  days  there  is  play  in 
the  gallery.  In  this  way,  were  the  king  always  to  stop  at  Han- 
over, one  could  make  a  ten  years'  calendar  of  his  proceedings  ; 
and  settle  beforehand  what  his  time  of  business,  meals,  and 
pleasure  would  be." 

The  old  pagan  kept  his  promise  to  his  dying  wife.  Lady  Yar- 
mouth was  now  in  full  favor,  and  treated  with  profound  respect 


48  THE    FOUR    GEORGES. 

by  the  Hanover  society,  though  it  appears  rather  neglected  in 
England  when  she  came  among  us.  In  1740  a  couple  of  the 
king's  daughters  went  to  see  him  at  Hanover — Anna,  the  Prin- 
cess of  Orange  (about  whom,  and  whose  husband  and  marriage- 
day,  Walpole  and  Hervey  have  left  us  the  most  ludicrous  de- 
scriptions), and  Maria  of  Hesse  Cassel,  with  their  respective 
lords.  This  made  the  Hanover  court  very  brilliant.  In  honor 
of  his  high  guests,  the  king  gave  several  files ;  among  others,  a 
magnificent  masked  ball,  in  the  green  theater  at  Herrenhausen — 
the  garden  theater,  with  linden  and  box  for  screen,  and  grass  for 
a  carpet,  where  the  Platens  had  danced  to  George  and  his  father, 
the  late  sultan.  The  stage  and  a  great  part  of  the  garden  were 
illuminated  with  colored  lamps.  Almost  the  whole  court  appeared 
in  white  dominoes,  "like,0'  says  the  describer  of  the  scene,  "like 
spirits  in  the  Elysian  fields.  At  night,  supper  was  served  in  the 
gallery  with  three  great  tables,  and  the  king  was  very  merry. 
After  supper  dancing  was  resumed,  and  I  did  not  get  home  till 
five  o'clock  by  full  daylight  to  Hanover.  Some  days  afterward 
we  had  in  the  opera-house  at  Hanover  a  great  assembly.  The 
king  appeared  in  a  Turkish  dress;  his  turban  was  ornamented 
with  a  magnificent  agraffe  of  diamonds ;  the  Lady  Yarmouth 
was  dressed  as  a  sultana ;  nobody  was  more  beautiful  than  the 
Princess  of  Hesse."  So,  while  poor  Caroline  was  resting  in  her 
coffin,  dapper  little  George,  with  his  red  face  and  his  white  eye- 
brows and  goggle-eyes,  at  sixty  years  of  age,  is  dancing  a  pretty 
dance  with  Madame  Walmoden,  and  capering  about  dressed  up 
like  a  Turk  !  For  twenty  years  more  that  little  old  Bajazet  went 
on  in  this  Turkish  fashion,  until  the  fit  came  which  choked  the 
old  man,  when  he  ordered  the  side  of  his  coffin  to  be  taken  out, 
as  well  as  that  of  poor  Caroline's,  who  had  preceded  him,  so  that 
his  sinful  old  bones  and  ashes  might  mingle  with  those  of  the 
faithful  creature.  Oh,  strutting  Turkey-cock  of  Herrenhausen ! 
Oh,  naughty  little  Mohammed  !  in  what  Turkish  paradise  are  you 
now,  and  where  be  your  painted  houris?  So  Countess  Tar- 
mouth  appeared  as  a  sultana,  and  his  Majesty  in  a  Turkish  dress 
wore  an  agraffe  of  diamonds,  and  was  very  merry,  was  he? 
Friends !  he  was  your  fathers'  king  as  well  as  mine — let  us  drop 
a  respectful  tear  over  his  grave. 

He  said  of  his  wife  that  he  never  knew  a  woman  who  was 
worthy  to  buckle  her  shoe :  he  would  sit  alone  weeping  before 


GEORGE   THE   SECOND.  49 

her  portrait,  and,  when  he  had  dried  his  eyes,  he  would  go  off 
to  his  Wahnoden  and  talk  of  her.  On  the  25th  day  of  October, 
17G0,  he  being  then  in  the  seventy-seventh  year  of  his  age.  and 
the  thirty-fourth  of  his  reign,  his  page  went  to  take  him  his 
royal  chocolate,  and  behold  !  the  most  religious  and  gracious ' 
king  was  lying  dead  on  the  floor.  They  went  and  fetched 
Wahnoden;  but  Walmoden  could  not  wake  him.  The  sacred 
Majesty  was  but  a  lifeless  corpse.  The  king  was  dead;  God 
save  the  king !  But,  of  course,  poets  and  clergymen  decorously 
bewailed  the  late  one.  Here  are  some  artless  verses,  in  which 
an  English  divine  deplored  the  famous  departed  hero,  and  over 
which  you  may  cry  or  you  may  laugh,  exactly  as  your  humor 
suits : 

"  While  at  his  feet  expiring  Faction  lay. 
No  contest  left  but  who  should  best  obey; 
Saw  in  his  offspring  all  himself  renewed  ; 
The  same  fair  path  of  glory  still  pursued; 
Saw  to  young  George  Augusta's  care  impart 
Whate'er  could  raise  and  humanise  the  heart; 
Blend  all  his  grandsire's  virtues  with  his  own, 

And  form  their  mingled  radiance  for  the  throne 

No  farther  blessing  could  on  earth  be  given — 
The  next  degree  of  happiness  was — heaven  I" 

If  he  had  been  good,  if  he  had  been  just,  if  he  had  been  pure 
in  life,  and  wise  in  council,  could  the  poet  have  said  much  more  ? 
It  was  a  parson  who  came  and  wept  over  this  grave,  with  Wal- 
moden sitting  on  it,  and  claimed  heaven  for  the  poor  old  man 
slumbering  below.  Here  was  one  who  had  neither  dignity, 
learning,  morals,  nor  wit — who  tainted  a  great  society  by  a  bad 
example ;  who  in  youth,  manhood,  old  age,  was  gross,  low,  and 
sensual ;  and  Mr.  Porteus,  afterward  my  Lord  Bishop  Porteus, 
says  the  earth  was  not  good  enough  for  him,  and  that  his  only 
place  was  heaven  !  Bravo,  Mr.  Porteus !  The  divine  who  wept 
these  tears  over  George  the  Second's  memory  wore  George  the 
Third's  lawn.  I  don't  know  whether  people  still  admire  his 
poetry  or  his  sermons. 


GEORGE    THE    THIRD. 


XI TE  have  to  glance  over  sixty  years  in  as  many  minutes.  To 
VV  read  the  mere  catalogue  of  characters  who  figured  during 
that  long  period  would  occupy  our  allotted  time,  and  we  should 
have  all  text  and  no  sermon.  England  has  to  undergo  the  revolt 
of  the  American  colonies ;  to  submit  to  defeat  and  separation  ; 
to  shake  under  the  volcano  of  the  French  Eevolution ;  to  grapple 
and  fight  for  the  fife  with  her  gigantic  enemy  Napoleon ;  to  gasp 
and  rally  after  that  tremendous  struggle.  The  old  society,  with 
its  courtly  splendors,  has  to  pass  away ;  generations  of  statesmen 
to  rise  and  disappear ;  Pitt  to  follow  Chatham  to  the  tomb  ;  the 
memory  of  Rodney  and  Wolfe  to  be  superseded  by  Nelson's 
and  Wellington's  glory ;  the  old  poets  who  unite  us  to  Queen 
Anne's  time  to  sink  into  their  graves  ;  Johnson  to  die,  and  Scott 
and  Byron  to  arise;  Garrick  to  delight  the  world  with  his  daz- 
zling dramatic  genius,  and  Kean  to  leap  on  the  stage  and  take 
possession  of  the  astonished  theater.  Steam  has  to  be  invented ; 
kings  to  be  beheaded,  banished,  deposed,  restored ;  Napoleon  to 
be  but  an  episode,  and  George  III.  is  to  be  alive  through  all 
these  varied  changes,  to  accompany  his  people  through  all  these 
revolutions  of  thought,  government,  society ;  to  survive  out  of 
the  old  world  into  ours. 

When  I  first  saw  England  she  was  in  mourning  for  the  young 
Princess  Charlotte,  the  hope  of  the  empire.  I  came  from  India 
as  a  child,  and  our  ship  touched  at  an  island  on  the  way  home, 
where  my  black  servant  took  me  a  long  walk  over  rocks  and 
hills  until  we  reached  a  garden  where  we  saw  a  man  walking. 
"  That  is  he,"  said  the  black  man :  "  that  is  Bonaparte.  He  eats 
three  sheep  every  day,  and  all  the  little  children  he  can  lay 
hands  on !"    There  were  people  in  the  British  dominions  besides 


GEORGE   THE   THIRD.  51 

that  poor  Calcutta  serving-man  with  an  equal  horror  of  the  Cor- 
sican  ogre. 

With  the  same  childish  attendant  I  remember  peeping  through 
the   colonnade  at  Carlton   House,  and  seeing  the  abode  of  the 
great  Prince  Regent.     1  can  see  yet  the  Guards  pacing  before 
the  gates  of  the  place.     The  place  ?     What  place  ?     The  palace 
exists  no  more  than  the  palace  of  Nebuchadnezzar.     It  is  but  a 
name  now.     Where  be  the  sentries  who  used  to  salute  as  the 
Royal  chariots  drove  in  and  out  ?     The  chariots,  with  the  kings 
inside,  have  driven  to  the  realms  of  Pluto ;  the  tall  Guards  have 
marched  into  darkness,  and  the  echoes  of  their  drums  are  rolling 
in  Hades.     Where  the  palace  once  stood  a  hundred  little  chil- 
dren are  paddling  up  and  down  the  steps  to  St.  James's  Park. 
A  score  of  grave  gentlemen  are  taking  their  tea  at  the  Athenasum 
Club ;  as  many  grisly  warriors  are  garrisoning  the  United  Ser- 
vice Club  opposite.     Pall  Mall  is  the  great  social  Exchange  of 
London  now — the  mart  of  news,  of  politics,  of  scandal,  of  rumor 
— the  English  forum,  so  to  speak,  where  men  discuss  the  last 
dispatch  from  the  Crimea,  the  last  speech   of  Lord  Derby,  the 
next  move  of  Lord  John.     And,  now  and  then,  to  a  few  anti- 
quarians, whose  thoughts  are  with  the  past  rather  than  with  the 
present,  it  is  a  memorial  of  old  time  sand  old  people,  and  Pall 
Mall  is  our  Palmyra.     Look!     About  this  spot  Tom    of   Ten 
Thousand  was  killed  by  Konigsmarck's  gang.     In  that  great  red 
house   Gainsborough  lived,  and  Culloden  Cumberland,  George 
III.'s  uncle.     Yonder  is  Sarah  Marlborough's  palace,  just  as  it 
stood  when  that  termagant  occupied  it.     At  25  Walter  Scott 
used  to  live ;  at  the  house  now  No.  7*9,  and  occupied  by  the 
Society  for  the   Propagation   of  the   Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts, 
resided  Mrs.  Eleanor  Gwynn,  comedian.     How  often  has  Queen 
Caroline's  Chair  issued  from  under  yonder  arch !     All  the  men 
of  the  Georges  have  passed  up  and  down  the  street.     It  has 
seen  Walpole's  chariot  and  Chatham's  sedan;  and  Fox,  Gibbon, 
Sheridan,  on  their  way  to  Brookes's;  and  stately  William  Pitt 
stalking  on  the  arm  of  Dundas;  and  Hanger  and  Tom  Sheridan 
reeling  out  of  Raggett's  ;  and  Byron  limping  into  Wattier's;  and 
Swift  striding  out  of  Bury  Street;  and  Mr.  Addison  and  Dick 
Steele,  both  perhaps  a  little  the  better  for  liquor ;  and  the  Prince 
of  Wales  and  the  Duke  of  York  clattering  over  the  pavement; 
and  Johnson  counting  the  posts  along  the  streets,  after  dawdliag 


52  THE  FOUR   GEORGES. 

before  Dodsley's  window :  and  Horry  Walpole  hobbling  into  his 
carriage,  with  a  gimcrack  just  bought  out  at  Christie's;  and 
George  Selwyn  sauntering  into  White's. 

In  the  published  letters  to  George  Selwyn  we  get  a  mass  of 
correspondence  by  no  means  so  brilliant  and  witty  as  Walpole's, 
or  so  bitter  and  bright  as  Hervey's,  but  as  interesting,  and  even 
more  descriptive  of  the  time,  because  the  letters  are  the  work  of 
many  hands.  You  hear  more  voices  speaking,  as  it  were,  and 
more  natural  than  Horace's  dandified  treble,  and  Sporus's  malig- 
nant whisper.  As  one  reads  the  Selwyn  letters — as  one  looks 
at  Reynolds's  noble  pictures  illustrative  of  those  magnificent 
times  and  voluptuous  people — one  almost  hears  the  voice  of  the 
dead  past ;  the  laughter  and  the  chorus ;  the  toast  called  over 
the  brimming  cups  ;  the  shout  at  the  race-course  or  the  gaming- 
table ;  the  merry  joke  frankly  spoken  to  the  laughing  fine  lady. 
How  fine  those  ladies  were,  those  ladies  who  heard  and  spoke 
such  coarse  jokes!  how  grand  those  gentlemen! 

I  fancy  that  peculiar  product  of  the  past,  the  fine  gentleman, 
has  almost  vanished  off"  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  is  disappearing 
like  the  beaver  or  the  Red  Indian.  We  can't  have  fine  gentle- 
men any  more,  because  we  can't  have  the  society  in  which  they 
lived.  The  people  will  not  obey ;  the  parasites  will  not  be  as 
obsequious  as  formerly :  children  do  not  go  down  on  their  knees 
to  beg  their  parents'  blessing :  chaplains  do  not  say  grace  and 
retire  before  the  pudding :  servants  do  not  say  your  honor  and 
your  worship  at  every  moment :  tradesmen  do  not  stand  hat  in 
hand  as  the  gentleman  passes :  authors  do  not  wait  for  hours  in 
gentlemen's  ante-rooms  with  a  fulsome  dedication,  for  which 
they  hope  to  get  five  guineas  from  his  lordship.  In  the  days 
when  there  Were  fine  gentlemen.  Mr.  Secretary  Pitt's  under- 
secretaries did  not  dare  to  sit  down  before  him ;  but  Mr.  Pitt,  in 
his  turn,  went  down  on  his  gouty  knees  to  George  II. ;  and 
when  George  III.  spoke  a  few  kind  words  to  him,  Lord  Chatham 
burst  into  tears  of  reverential  joy  and  gratitude;  so  awful  was 
the  idea  of  the  monarch,  and  so  great  the  distinctions  of  rank. 
Fancy  Lord  John  Russel  or  Lord  Palmerston  on  their  knees 
while  the  Sovereign  was  reading  a  dispatch,  or  beginning  to  cry 
because  Prince  Albert  said  something  civil ! 

At  the  accession  of  George  III.  the  patricians  were  yet  at  the 
height  of  their  good  fortune.     Society  recognized  their  superior- 


GEORGE   THE   THIRD.  53 

ity,  which  they  themselves  pretty  calmly  took  for  granted.  They 
inherited  not  only  titles  and  estates,  and  seats  in  the  House  of 
Peers,  but  seats  in  the  House  of  Commons.  There  were  a  mul- 
titude of  Government  places,  and  not  merely  these,  but  bribes 
of  actual  five  hundred  pound  notes,  which  members  of  the  House 
took  not  much  shame  in  assuming.  Fox  went  into  Parliament 
at  twenty  :  Pitt  was  just  of  age  :  his  father  not  much  older.  It 
was  the  good  time  for  patricians.  Small  blame  to  them  if  they 
took  and  enjoyed,  and  over-enjoyed,  the  prizes  of  politics,  the 
pleasures  of  social  life. 

In  these  letters  to  Selwyn  we  are  made  acquainted  with  a 
whole  society  of  these  defunct  fine  gentlemen:  and  can  watch 
with  a  curious  interest  a  life,  which  the  novel-writers  of  that 
time,  I  think,  have  scarce  touched  upon.  To  Smollet,  to  Field- 
ing even,  a  lord  was  a  lord :  a  gorgeous  being  with  a  blue  rib- 
bon, a  coroneted  chair,  and  an  immense  star  on  his  bosom,  to 
whom  commoners  paid  reverence.  Richardson,  a  man  of  hum- 
bler birth  than  either  of  the  above  two,  owned  that  he  was  igno- 
rant regarding  the  manners  of  the  aristocracy,  and  besought  Mrs. 
Donnellan,  a  lady  who  had  lived  in  the  great  world,  to  examine 
a  volume  of  Sir  Charles  Grandison,  and  point  out  any  errors 
which  she  might  see  in  this  particular.  Mrs.  Donnellan  found 
so  many  faults  that  Richardson  changed  color,  shut  up  the  book, 
and  muttered  that  it  were  best  to  throw  it  in  the  fire.  Here,  in 
Selwyn,  we  have  the  real  original  men  and  women  of  fashion 
of  the  early  time  of  George  III.  We  can  follow  them  to  the 
new  club  at  Almack's  :  we  can  travel  over  Europe  with  them  : 
we  can  accompany  them  not  only  to  the  public  places,  but  to 
their  country-houses  and  private  society.  Here  is  a  whole  com- 
pany of  them ;  wits  and  prodigals ;  some  persevering  in  their 
bad  ways;  some  repentant,  but  relapsing ;  beautiful  ladies,  para- 
sites, humble  chaplains,  led  captains.  Those  fair  creatures  whom 
we  love  in  Reynolds's  portraits,  and  who  still  look  out  on  us 
from  his  canvases  with  their  sweet  calm  faces  and  gracious  smiles 
— those  fine  gentlemen  who  did  us  the  honor  to  govern  us ;  who 
inherited  their  boroughs,  took  their  ease  in  their  patent  places, 
and  slipped  Lord  North's  bribes  so  elegantly  under  their  ruffles 
— we  make  acquaintance  with  a  hundred  of  these  fine  folks,  hear 
their  talk  and  laughter,  read  of  their  loves,  quarrels,  intrigues, 
debts,  duels,  divorces ;  can  fancy  them  alive  if  we  read  the  book 


64  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

long  enough.  We  can  attend  at  Duke  Hamilton's  wedding,  and 
behold  him  marry  his  bride  with  the  curtain-ring  :  we  can  peep 
into  her  poor  sister's  death-bed  :  we  can  see  Charles  Fox  cursing 
over  the  cards,  or  March  bawling  out  the  odds  at  Newmarket: 
we  can  imagine  Burgoyne  tripping  off  from  St.  James's  Street  to 
conquer  the  Americans,  and  slinking  back  into  the  club  some- 
what crest-fallen  after  his  beating :  we  can  see  the  young  king 
dressing  himself  for  the  drawing-room  and  asking  ten  thousand 
questions  regarding  all  the  gentlemen  :  we  can  have  high  life  or 
low,  the  struggle  at  the  Opera  to  behold  the  Violetta  or  the 
Zamperini — the  Macaronies  and  fine  ladies  in  their  chairs  troop- 
ing to  the  masquerade  or  Madame  Cornelys's — the  crowd  at 
Drury  Lane  to  look  at  the  body  of  Miss  Ray,  whom  Parson 
Hackman  has  just  pistoled — or  we  can  peep  into  Newgate,  where 
poor  Mr.  Rice,  the  forger,  is  waiting  his  fate  and  his  supper. 
"  You  need  not  be  particular  about  the  sauce  for  his  fowl,"  says 
one  turnkey  to  another :  "  for  you  know  he  is  to  be  hanged  in 
the  morning."  "  Yes,"  replies  the  second  janitor,  "  but  the 
chaplain  sups  with  him,  and  he  is  a  terrible  fellow  for  melted 
butter !" 

Selwyn  has  a  chaplain  and  parasite,  one  Dr.  Warner,  than 
whom  Plautus,  or  Ben  Jonson,  or  Hogarth  never  painted  a  bet- 
ter character.  In  letter  after  letter  he  adds  fresh  strokes  to  the 
portrait  of  himself,  and  completes  a  portrait  not  a  little  curious 
to  look  at  now  that  the  man  has  passed  away  ;  all  the  foul  pleas- 
ures and  gambols  in  which  he  reveled,  played  out ;  all  the  rouged 
faces  into  which  he  leered,  worms  and  skulls ;  all  the  fine  gentle- 
men whose  shoe-buckles  he  kissed,  laid  in  their  coffins.  This 
worthy  clergyman  takes  care  to  tell  us  that  he  does  not  believe 
in  his  religion,  though,  thank  Heaven,  he  is  not  so  great  a  rogue 
as  a  lawyer.  He  goes  on  Mr.  Selwyn's  errands,  any  errands, 
and  is  proud,  he  says,  to  be  that  gentleman's  proveditor.  He 
waits  upon  the  Duke  of  Queensberry — old  Q. — and  exchanges 
pretty  stories  with  that  aristocrat.  He  comes  home  "  after  a 
hard  day's  christening,"  as  he  says,  and  writes  to  his  patron  be- 
fore sitting  down  to  whist  and  partridges  for  supper.  He  revels 
in  the  thoughts  of  ox-cheek  and  Burgundy — he  is  a  boisterous, 
uproarious  parasite,  licks  his  master's  shoes  with  explosions  of 
laughter  and  cunning  smack  and  gusto,  and  likes  the  taste  of 
that  blacking  as  much  as  the  best  claret  in  old  Q.'s  cellar.     He 


GEORGE   THE   THIRD.  55 

has  Rabelais  and  Horace  at  his  greasy  fingers'  ends.  He  is  in- 
expressibly mean,  curiously  jolly;  kindly  and  good-natured  in 
secret — a  tender-hearted  knave  not  a  venomous  lickspittle. 
Jesse  says,  that  at  his  chapel  in  Long  Acre,  "  he  attained  a  con- 
siderable popularity  by  the  pleasing,  manly,  and  eloquent  style 
of  his  delivery."  Was  infidelity  endemic,  and  corruption  in  the 
air  ?  Around  a  young  king,  himself  of  the  most  exemplary  life 
and  undoubted  piety,  lived  a  court  society  as  dissolute  as  our 
country  ever  knew.  George  II.'s  bad  morals  bore  their  fruit  in 
George  III.'s  early  years ;  as  I  believe  that  a  knowledge  of  that 
good  man's  example,  his  moderation,  his  frugal  simplicity,  and 
God-fearing  life,  tended  infinitely  to  improve  the  morals  of  the 
country  and  purify  the  whole  nation. 

After  Warner,  the  most  interesting  of  Selwyn's  correspond- 
ents is  the  Earl  of  Carlisle,  grandfather  of  the  amiable  nobleman 
at  present  Viceroy  in  Ireland.  The  grandfather,  too,  was  Irish 
Viceroy,  having  previously  been  treasurer  of  the  king's  house- 
hold ;  and,  in  1778,  the  principal  commissioner  for  treating,  con- 
sulting, and  agreeing  upon  the  means  of  quieting  the  divisions 
subsisting  in  his  majesty's  colonies,  plantations,  and  possessions 
in  North  America.  You  may  read  his  lordship's  manifestoes  in 
the  Royal  New  York  Gazette.  He  returned  to  England,  having 
by  no  means  quieted  the  colonies ;  and  speedily  afterward  the 
Royal  New  York  Gazette  somehow  ceased  to  be  published. 

This  good,  clever,  kind,  highly-bred  Lord  Carlisle  was  one  of 
the  English  fine  gentlemen  who  was  well  nigh  ruined  by  the 
awful  debauchery  and  extravagance  which  prevailed  in  the  great 
English  society  of  those  days.  Its  dissoluteness  was  awful :  it 
had  swarmed  over  Europe  after  the  Peace  ;  it  had  danced,  and 
raced,  and  gambled  in  all  the  courts.  It  had  made  its  bow  at 
Versailles;  it  had  run  its  horses  on  the  plain  of  Sablons,  near 
Paris,  and  created  the  Anglo-mania  there :  it  had  exported  vast 
quantities  of  pictures  and  marbles  from  Rome  and  Florence  :  it 
had  ruined  itself  by  building  great  galleries  and  palaces  for  the 
reception  of  the  statues  and  pictures :  it  had  brought  over  sing- 
ing-women and  dancing-women  from  all  the  operas  of  Europe, 
on  whom  my  lords  lavished  their  thousands,  while  they  left  their 
honest  wives  and  honest  children  languishing  in  the  lonely,  de- 
serted splendors  of  the  castle  and  park  at  home. 

Besides  the  great  London  society  of  those  days,  there  wa3 


56  THE  POUR  GEORGES. 

another  unacknowledged  world,  extravagant  beyond  measure, 
tearing  about  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure;  dancing,  gambling, 
drinking,  singing;  meeting  the  real  society  in  the  public  places 
(at  Ranelaghs,  Vauxhalls,  and  Ridottos,  about  which  our  old 
.novelists  talk  so  constantly),  and  outvying  the  real  leaders  of 
fashion  in  luxury,  and  splendor,  and  beauty.  For  instance, 
when  the  famous  Miss  Gunning  visited  Paris  as  Lady  Coven- 
try, where  she  expected  that  her  beauty  would  meet  with  the 
applause  which  had  followed  her  and  her  sister  through  England, 
it  appears  she  was  put  to  flight  by  an  English  lady  still  more 
lovely  in  the  eyes  of  the  Parisians.  A  certain  Mrs.  Pitt  took  a 
box  at  the  opera  opposite  the  countess ;  and  was  so  much  hand- 
somer than  her  ladyship,  that  the  parterre  cried  out  that  this 
was  the  real  English  angel,  whereupon  Lady  Coventry  quitted 
Paris  in  a  huff.  The  poor  thing  died  presently  of  consumption, 
accelerated,  it  was  said,  by  the  red  and  white  paint  with  which 
she  plastered  those  luckless  charms  of  hers.  (We  must  repre- 
sent to  ourselves  all  fashionable  female  Europe,  at  that  time,  as 
plastered  with  white,  and  raddled  with  red.)  She  left  two 
daughters  behind  her,  whom  George  Selwyn  loved  (he  was 
curiously  fond  of  little  children),  and  who  are  described  very 
drolly  and  pathetically  in  these  letters,  in  their  little  nursery, 
where  passionate  little  Lady  Fanny,  if  she  had  not  good  cards, 
flung  hers  into  Lady  Mary's  face  ;  and  where  they  sat  conspiring 
how  they  should  receive  a  new  mother-in-law  whom  their  papa 
presently  brought  home.  They  got  on  very  well  with  their 
mother-in-law,  who  was  very  kind  to  them  ;  and  they  grew  up, 
and  they  were  married,  and  they  were  both  divorced  afterward 
— poor  little  souls!  Poor  painted  mother,  poor  society,  ghastly 
in  its  pleasures,  its  loves,  its  revelries ! 

As  for  my  lord  commissioner,  we  can  afford  to  speak  about 
him ;  because,  though  he  was  a  wild  and  weak  commissioner  at 
one  time,  though  he  hurt  his  estate,  though  he  gambled  and  lost 
ten  thousand  pounds  at  a  sitting — "  five  times  more,"  says  the 
unlucky  gentleman,  "  than  I  ever  lost  before;"  though  he  swore 
he  never  would  touch  a  card  again ;  and  yet,  strange  to  say, 
went  back  to  the  table  and  lost  still  more :  yet  he  repented  of 
his  errors,  sobered  clown,  and  became  a  worthy  peer  and  a  good 
country  gentleman,  and  returned  to  the  good  wife  and  the  good 
children  whom  he  had  always  loved  with  the  best  part  of  his 


GEORfiK    THE    THIKD.  57 

heart.  He  bad  married  at  one-and-twenty.  He  found  himself, 
in  the  midst  of  a  dissolute  society,  at  the  head  of  a  great  fortune. 
Forced  into  luxury,  and  obliged  to  be  a  great  lord  and  a  great 
idler,  he  yielded  to  some  temptations,  and  paid  for  them  a  bitter 
penalty  of  manly  remorse  ;  from  some  others  he  fled  "wisely,  and 
ended  by  conquering  them  nobly.  But  he  always  had  the 
good  wife  and  children  in  his  mind,  and  they  saved  him.  "  I 
am  very  glad  you  did  not  come  to  me  the  morning  I  left  Lon- 
don," he  writes  to  Gr.  Selwyn,  as  he  is  embarking  for  America. 
"I  can  only  say,  I  never  knew  till  that  moment  of  parting  what 
grief  was."  There  is  no  parting  now,  where  they  are.  The 
faithful  wife,  the  kind,  generous  gentleman,  have  left  a  noble 
race  behind  them  :  an  inheritor  of  his  name  and  titles,  who  is 
beloved  as  widely  as  he  is  known ;  a  man  most  kind,  accom- 
plished, gentle,  friendly,  and  pure ;  and  female  descendants  occu- 
pying high  stations  and  embellishing  great  names;  some 
renowned  for  beauty,  and  all  for  spotless  lives,  and  pious, 
matronly  virtues. 

Another  of  Selwyn's  correspondents  is  the  Earl  of  March, 
afterward  Duke  of  Queensberry,  whose  life  lasted  into  this  cen- 
tury ;  and  who  certainly  as  earl  or  duke,  young  man  or  gray- 
beard,  was  not  an  ornament  to  any  possible  society.  The 
legends  about  old  Q.  are  awful.  In  Selwyn,  in  Wraxall,  and 
contemporary  chroniclers,  the  observer  of  human  nature  may  fol- 
low him,  drinking,  gambling,  intriguing  to  the  end  of  his  career ; 
when  the  wrinkled,  palsied,  toothless  old  Don  Juan  died,  as 
wicked  and  unrepentant  as  he  had  been  at  the  hottest  season  of 
youth  and  passion.  There  is  a  house  in  Piccadilly  where  they 
used  to  show  a  certain  low  window  at  which  old  Q.  sat  to  his 
very  last  days,  ogling  through  his  senile  glasses  the  women  as 
they  passed  by. 

There  must  have  been  a  great  deal  of  good  about  this  lazy, 
sleepy  George  Selwyn,  which,  no  doubt,  is  set  to  his  present 
credit.  "  Your  friendship,"  writes  Carlisle  to  him,  "  is  so  differ- 
ent from  any  thing  I  have  ever  met  with  or  seen  in  the  world, 
that  when  I  recollect  the  extraordinary  proofs  of  your  kindness, 
it  seems  to  me  like  a  dream."  "  I  have  lost  my  oldest  friend 
and  acquaintance,  G.  Selwyn,"  writes  Walpole  to  Miss  Berry  : 
"I  really  loved  him,  not  only  for  his  infinite  wit,  but  for  a  thou- 
sand good  qualities.''     I  am  glad,  for  my  part,  that  such  a  lover 

3* 


58  The  Fotra  <trorges. 

of  cakes  and  ale  should  have  had  a  thousand  good  qualities — that 
he  should  have  been  friendly,  generous,  warm-hearted,  trust- 
worthy. "  I  rise  at  six,"  writes  Carlisle  to  him,  from  Spa  (a 
great  resort  of  fashionable  people  in  our  ancestors'  days),  "  play 
at  cricket  till  dinner,  and  dance  in  the  evening  till  I  can  scarcely 
crawl  to  bed  at  eleven.  There  is  a  life  for  you !  You  get  up 
at  nine ;  play  with  Eaton  your  dog  till  twelve,  in  your  dressing- 
gown  ;  then  creep  down  to  White's ;  are  five  hours  at  table ; 
sleep  till  supper-time;  and  then  make  two  wretches  carry  you 
in  a  sedan-chair,  with  three  pints  of  claret  in  you,  three  miles  for 
a  shilling."  Occasionally,  instead  of  sleeping  at  White's,  George 
went  down  and  snoozed  in  the  House  of  Commons  by  the  side 
of  Lord  North.  He  represented  Gloucester  for  many  years,  and 
had  a  borough  of  his  own,  Ludgershall,  for  which,  when  he  was 
too  lazy  to  contest  Gloucester,  he  sat  himself.  "  I  have  given 
directions  for  the  election  of  Ludgershall  to  be  of  Lord  Melbourne 
and  myself,"  he  writes  to  the  Premier,  whose  friend  he  was,  and 
who  was  himself  as  sleepy,  as  witty,  and  as  good-natured  as 
George. 

If,  in  looking  at  the  lives  of  princes,  courtiers,  men  of  rank 
and  fashion,  we  must  perforce  depict  them  as  idle,  profligate,  and 
criminal,  we  must  make  allowances  for  the  rich  men's  failings, 
and  recollect  that  we,  too,  were  very  likely  indolent  and  volup- 
tuous, had  we  no  motive  for  work,  a  mortal's  natural  taste  for 
pleasure,  and  the  daily  temptation  of  a  large  income.  What 
could  a  great  peer,  with  a  great  castle  and  park,  and  a  great  for- 
tune, do  but  be  splendid  and  idle  ?  In  these  letters  of  Lord 
Carlisle's  from  which  I  have  been  quoting,  there  is  many  a  just 
complaint  made  by  the  kind-hearted  young  nobleman  of  the  state 
which  he  is  obliged  to  keep ;  the  magnificence  in  which  he  must1 
live;  the  idleness  to  which  his  position  as  a  peer  of  England 
bound  him.  Better  for  him  had  he  been  a  lawyer  at  his  desk,  or 
a  clerk  in  his  office  ;  a  thousand  times  better  chance  for  happi- 
ness, education,  employment,  security  from  temptation.  A  few 
years  since  the  profession  of  arms  was  the  only  one  which  our 
nobles  could  follow.  The  church,  the  bar,  medicine,  literature, 
the  arts,  commerce,  were  below  them.  It  is  to  the  middle  class 
we  must  look  for  the  safety  of  England  :  the  working  educated 
men,  away  from  Lord  North's  bribery  in  the  senate ;  the  good 
clergy  not  corrupted  into  parasites  by  hopes  of  preferment;  the 


GEORGE   THE   THIRD.  59 

tradesmen  rising  into  manly  opulence  ;  the  painters  pursuing 
their  gentle  calling ;  the  men  of  letters  in  their  quiet  studies ; 
these  are  the  men  whom  we  love  and  like  to  read  of  in  the  last 
age.  How  small  the  grandees  and  the  men  of  pleasure  look 
beside  them !  how  contemptible  the  story  of  the  George  III. 
court  squabbles  are  beside  the  recorded  talk  of  dear  old  John- 
son !  What  is  the  grandest  entertainment  at  Windsor,  compared 
to  a  night  at  the  club  over  its  modest  cnps,  with  Percy,  and 
Langton,  and  Goldsmith,  and  poor  Bozzy  at  the  table?  I  declare 
I  think,  of  all  the  polite  men  of  that-  age,  Joshua  Reynolds  was 
the  finest  gentleman.  And  they  were  good,  as  well  as  witty  and 
wise,  those  dear  old  friends  of  the  past.  Their  minds  were  not 
debauched  by  excess,  or  effeminate  with  luxury.  They  toiled 
their  noble  day's  labor :  they  rested,  and  took  their  kindly  plea- 
sure :  they  cheered  their  holiday  meetings  with  generous  wit 
and  hearty  interchange  of  thought :  they  were  no  prudes,  but 
no  blush  need  follow  their  conversation :  they  were  merry,  but 
no  riot  came  out  of  their  cups.  Ah  !  I  would  have  liked  a  night 
at  the  Turk's  Head,  even  though  bad  news  had  arrived  from  the 
colonies,  and  Dr.  Johnson  was  growling  against  the  rebels ;  to 
have  sat  with  him  and  Goldy ;  and  to  have  heard  Burke,  the 
finest  talker  in  the  world ;  and  to  have  had  Garrick  flashing  in 
with  a  story  from  his  theater ! — I  like,  I  say,  to  think  of  that 
society ;  and  not  merely  how  pleasant  and  how  wise,  but  how 
good  they  were.  I  think  it  was  on  going  home  one  night  from 
the  club  that  Edmund  Burke — his  noble  soul  full  of  great 
thoughts,  be  sure,  for  they  never  left  him  ;  his  heart  full  of  gen- 
tleness— was  accosted  by  a  poor  wandering  woman,  to  whom  he 
spoke  words  of  kindness ;  and,  moved  by  the  tears  of  this  Mag- 
dalen, perhaps  having  caused  them  by  the  good  words  he  spoke 
to  her,  he  took  her  home  to  the  house  of  his  wife  and  children, 
and  never  left  her  until  he  had  found  the  means  of  restoring  her 
to  honesty  and  labor.  Oh,  you  fine  gentlemen !  you  Marches, 
and  Selvvyns,  and  Chesterfields,  how  small  you  look  by  the  side 
of  these  great  men  1  Good-natured  Carlisle  plays  at  cricket  all 
day,  and  dances  in  the  evening  "  till  he  can  scarcely  crawl," 
gavly  contrasting  his  superior  virtue  with  George  Selwyn's, 
"  carried  to  bed  by  two  wretches  at  midnight  with  three  pints  of 
claret  in  him."  Do  you  remember  the  verses — the  sacred  verses 
— which  Johnson  wrote  on  the  death  of  his  humble  friend,  Levetl? 


60  THE    FOUR    GEORGES. 

"Well  tried  through  many  a  varying  year, 
See  Levett  to  the  grave  descend  ; 
Officious,  innocent,  sincere, 
Of  every  friendless  name  the  friend. 

"  In  misery's  darkest  cavern  known, 
His  useful  care  was  ever  nigh, 
Where  hopeless  anguish  poured  the  groan, 
And  lonely  want  retired  to  die. 

"No  summons  mocked  by  chill  delay, 
No  petty  gain  disdained  by  pride, 
The  modest  wants  of  every  day 
The  toil  of  every  day  supplied. 

"  His  virtues  walked  their  narrow  round, 
Nor  made  a  pause,  nor  left  a  void : 
And  sure  the  Kternal  Master  found 
His  single  talent  well  employed." 

Whose  name  looks  the  brightest  now,  that  of  Queensberry,  the 
wealthy  duke,  or  Selwyn,  the  wit,  or  Levett,  the  poor  phy- 
sician ? 

I  hold  old  Johnson  (and  shall  we  not  pardon  James  Boswell 
some  errors  for  embalming  him  for  us  ?)  to  be  the  great  sup- 
porter of  the  British  monarchy  and  church  during  the  last  age — 
better  than  whole  benches  of  bishops,  better  than  Pitts,  Norths, 
and  the  great  Burke  himself.  Johnson  had  the  ear  of  the  na- 
tion :  his  immense  authority  reconciled  it  to  loyalty,  and  shamed 
it  out  of  irreligion.  When  George  III.  talked  with  him,  and 
the  people  heard  the  great  author's  good  opinion  of  the  sove- 
reign, whole  generations  rallied  to  the  king.  Johnson  was 
revered  as  a  sort  of  oracle ;  and  the  oracle  declared  for  church 
and  king.  What  a  humanity  the  old  man  had !  He  was  a 
kindly  partaker  of  all  honest  pleasures  :  a  fierce  foe  to  all  sin, 
but  a  gentle  enemy  to  all  sinners.  "  What,  boys,  are  you  for  a 
frolic  ?"  he  cries,  when  Topham  Beauclerc  comes  and  wakes  him 
up  at  midnight :  "  I'm  with  you."  And  away  he  goes,  tumbles 
on  his  homely  old  clothes,  and  trundles  through  Covent  Garden 
with  the  young  fellows.  When  he  used  to  frequent  Garrick's 
theater,  and  had  "  the  liberty  of  the  scenes,"  he  says,  "  All  the 
actresses  knew  me,  and  dropped  me  a  courtesy  as  they  passed  to 
the  stage."  That  would  make  a  pretty  picture  :  it  is  a  pretty 
picture  in  my  mind,  of  youth,  folly,  gayety,  tenderly  surveyed 
by  wisdom's  merciful,  pure  eyes. 


GEORGE   THE   THIRD.  61 

George  III.  and  his  queen  lived  in  a  very  unpretending  but 
elegant-looking  house,  on  the  site  of  the  hideous  pile  under 
which  his  grand-daughter  at  present  reposes.  The  king's  mother 
inhabited  Carlton  House,  which  contemporary  prints  represent 
with  a  perfect  paradise  of  a  garden,  with  trim  lawns,  green 
arcades,  and  vistas  of  classic  statues.  She  admired  these  in 
company  with  my  Lord  Bute,  who  had  a  fine  classic  taste, 
and  sometimes  counsel  took,  and  sometimes  tea,  in  the  pleas- 
ant green  arbors  along  with  that  polite  nobleman.  Bute  was 
hated  with  a  rage  of  which  there  have  been  few  examples 
in  English  history.  He  was  the  butt  for  everybody's  abuse; 
for  Wilkes's  devilish  mischief;  for  Churchill's  slashing  satire; 
for  the  hooting  of  the  mob  that  roasted  the  boot,  his  em- 
blem, in  a  thousand  bonfires  ;  that  hated  him  because  he  was  a 
favorite  and  a  Scotchman,  calling  him  "Mortimer,"  "  Lothario," 
I  know  not  what  names,  and  accusing  his  royal  mistress  of  all 
sorts  of  crimes — the  grave,  lean,  demure,  elderly  woman,  who, 
I  dare  say,  was  quite  as  good  as  her  neighbors.  Chatham 
lent  the  aid  of  his  great  malice  to  influence  the  popular  senti- 
ment against  her.  He  assailed,  in  the  House  of  Lords,  "  the 
secret  influence,  more  mighty  than  the  throne  itself,  which  be- 
trayed and  clogged  every  administration."  The  most  furious 
pamphlets  echoed  the  cry.  "  Impeach  the  king's  mother,"  was 
scribbled  over  every  wall  at  the  Court  end  of  the  town,  Walpole 
tells  us.  What  had  she  done  ?  What  had  Frederick,  Prince  of 
Wales,  George's  father,  done,  that  he  was  so  loathed  by  George 
II.,  and  never  mentioned  by  George  III.  ?  Let  us  not  seek  for 
stones  to  batter  that  forgotten  grave,  but  acquiesce  in  the  con- 
temporary epitaph  over  him : 

"Here  lies  Fred, 
Who  was  alive,  and  is  dead. 
Had  it  been  his  father, 
I  had  much  rather. 
Had  it  been  ms  brother, 
Still  better  than  another. 
Had  it  been  his  sister, 
No  one  would  have  missed  her. 
Had  it  been  the  whole  generation, 
Still  better  for  the  nation. 
Hut  since  'tis  only  Fred, 
Who  was  alive,  and  is  dead, 
There's  no  more  to  be  said." 


62  THE    FOUR    GEORGES. 

The  widow,  with  eight  children  round  her,  prudently  recon- 
ciled herself  with  the  king,  and  Won  the  old  man's  confidence 
and  good-will.  A  shrewd,  hard,  domineering,  narrow-minded 
woman,  she  educated  her  children  according  to  her  lights,  and 
spoke  of  the  eldest  as  a  dull,  good  boy.  She  kept  him  very 
close :  she  held  the  tightest  rein  over  him  :  she  had  curious  pre- 
judices and  bigotries.  His  uncle,  the  burly  Cumberland,  taking 
down  a  saber  once,  and  drawing  it  to  amuse,  the  child — the  boy 
started  back  and  turned  pale.  The  prince  felt  a  generous  shock : 
"What  must  they  have  told  him  about  me?"  he  asked. 

His  mother's  bigotry  and  hatred  he  inherited  with  the  cour- 
ageous obstinacy  of  his  own  race;  but  he  was  a  firm  believer 
where  his  fathers  had  been  free-thinkers,  and  a  true  and  fond 
supporter  of  the  Chnrch,  of  which  he  was  the  titular  defender. 
Like  other  dull  men,  the  king  was  all  his  life  suspicious  of  supe- 
rior people.  He  did  not  like  Fox ;  he  did  not  like  Reynolds ; 
he  did  not  like  Nelson,  Chatham,  Burke  ;  he  was  testy  at  the 
idea  of  all  innovations,  and  suspicious  of  all  innovators.  He 
loved  mediocrities  ;  Benjamin  West  was  his  favorite  painter ; 
Beattie  was  his  poet.  The  king  lamented,  not  without  pathos, 
in  his  after-life,  that  his  education  had  been  neglected.  He  was 
a  dull  lad,  brought  up  by  narrow-minded  people.  The  cleverest 
tutors  in  the  world  could  have  done  little,  probably,  to  expand 
that  small  intellect,  though  they  might  have  improved  his  tastes, 
and  taught  his  perceptions  some  generosity. 

But  he  admired  .as  well  as  he  could.  There  is  little  doubt  that 
a  letter,  written  by  the  little  Princess  Charlotte  of  Mecklenburg 
Strelitz — a  letter  containing  the  most  feeble  commonplaces  about 
the  horrors  of  war,  and  the  most  trivial  remarks  on  the  blessings 
of  peace,  struck  the  young  monarch  greatly,  and  decided  him 
upon  selecting  the  young  princess  as  the  sharer  of  his  throne.  I 
pass  over  the  stories  of  his  juvenile  loves — of  Hannah  Lightfoot, 
the  Quaker,  to  whom  they  say  he  was  actually  married  (though 
I  don't  know  who  has  ever  seen  the  register) — of  lovely  black- 
haired  Sarah  Lennox,  about  whose  beauty  Walpole  has  written 
in  raptures,  and  who  used  to  lie  in  wait  for  the  young  prince, 
and  make  hay  at  him  on  the  lawn  of  Holland  House.  He  sighed 
and  he  longed,  but  he  rode  away  from  her.  Her  picture  still 
hangs  in  Holland  House,  a  magnificent  master-piece  of  Reynolds, 
a  canvas  worthy  of  Titian.     She  looks  from  the  castle-window, 


GEORGE   THE   THIRD.  63 

holding  a  bird  in  her  hand,  at  black-eyed  young  Charles  Fox, 
her  nephew.  The  royal  bird  flew  away  from  lovely  Sarah.  She 
had  to  figure  as  bridemaid  at  her  little  Mecklenburg  rival's  wed- 
ding, and  died  in  our  own  time  a  quiet  old  lady,  who  had  beGome 
the  mother  of  the  heroic  Napiers. 

They  say  the  little  princess  who  had  written  the  fine  letter 
about  the  horrors  of  war — a  beautiful  letter,  without  a  single 
blot,  for  which  she  was  to  be  rewarded,  like  the  heroine  of  the 
old  spelling-book  story — was  at  play  one  day  with  some  of  her 
young  companions  in  the  gardens  of  Strelitz,  and  that  the  young 
ladies'  conversation  was,  strange  to  say,  about  husbands.  "  Who 
will  take  such  a  poor  little  princess  as  me?"  Charlotte  said,  to 
her  friend,  Ida  von  Bulow,  and  at  that  very  moment  the  post- 
man's horn  sounded,  and  Ida  said,  "  Princess !  there  is  the  sweet- 
heart." As  she  said,  so  it  actually  turned  out.  The  postman 
brought  letters  from  the  splendid  young  King  of  England,  who 
said,  "Princess  !  because  you  have  written  such  a  beautiful  let- 
ter, which  does  credit  to  your  head  and  heart,  come  and  be 
Queen  of  Great  Britain.  France,  and  Ireland,  and  the  true  wife 
of  your  most  obedient  servant,  George !"  So  she  jumped  for 
joy;  and  went  up  stairs  and  packed  all  her  little  trunks;  and 
set  off  straightway  for  her  kingdom  in  a  beautiful  yacht,  with  a 
harpsichord  on  board  for  her  to  play  upon,  and  around  her  a 
bfeautiful  fleet,  all  covered  with  flags  and  beautiful  streamers,  and 
the  distinguished  Madame  Auerbach  complimented  her  with  an 
ode,  a  translation  of  which  may  be  read  in  the  Gentleman's  Ma- 
gazine to  the  present  day  : 

"  Her  gallant  navy  through  the  main, 
Now  cleaves  its  liquid  way. 
There  to  their  queen  a  chosen  train 
Of  nymphs  due  reverence  pay. 

"  Europa,  when  conveyed  by  Jove 
To  Crete's  distinguished  shore, 
Greater  attention  scarce  could  prove, 
Or  be  respected  more." 

They  met,  and  they  were  married,  and  for  years  they  led  the 
happiest,  simplest  livles  sure  ever  led  by  married  couple.  It  is 
said  the  king  winced  when  he  first  saw  his  homely  little  bride; 
but,  however  that  may  be,  he  was  a  true  and  faithful  husband  to 
her,  as  she  was  a  faithful  and  loving  wife.    They  had  the  simplest 


04-  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

pleasures — the  very  mildest  and  simplest — little  country  dances, 
to  which  a  dozen  couple  were  invited,  and  where  the  honest  king 
would  stand  up  and  dance  for  three  hours  at  a  time  to  one  tune  ; 
after  which  delicious  excitement  they  would  go  to  bed  without 
any  supper  (the  Court  people  grumbling  sadly  at  that  absence  of 
supper),  and  get  up  quite  early  the  next  morning,  and  perhaps 
the  next  night  have  another  dance  ;  or  the  queen  would  play  on 
the  spinnet — she  played  pretty  well,  Haydn  said — or  the  king 
would  read  to  her  a  paper  out  of  the  Spectator,  or  perhaps  one 
of  Ogden's  sermons.  0  Arcadia  !  what  a  life  it  must  have  been ! 
There  used  to  be  Sunday  drawing-rooms  at  Court ;  but  the  young 
king  stopped  these,  as  he  stopped  all  that  godless  gambling 
whereof  we  have  made  mention.  Not  that  George  was  averse 
to  any  innocent  pleasures,  or  pleasures  which  he  thought  inno- 
cent. He  was  a  patron  of  the  arts,  after  his  fashion  ;  kind  and 
gracious  to  the  artists  whom  he  favored,  and  respectful  to  their 
calling.  He  wanted  once  to  establish  an  Order  of  Minerva  for 
literary  and  scientific  characters ;  the  knights  were  to  take  rank 
after  the  knights  of  the  Bath,  and  to  sport  a  straw-colored  ribbon 
and  a  star  of  sixteen  points.  But  there  was  such  a  row  among 
the  literati  as  to  the  persons  who  should  be  appointed  that  the 
plan  was  given  up,  and  Minerva  and  her  star  never  came  down 
among  us. 

He  objected  to  painting  St.  Paul's,  as  Popish  practice  ;  accord- 
ingly, the  most  clumsy  heathen  sculptures  decorate  that  edifice  at 
present.  It  is  fortunate  that  the  paintings,  too,  were  spared,  for 
painting  and  drawing  were  woefully  unsound  at  the  close  of  the 
last  century ;  and  it  is  far  better  for  our  eyes  to  contemplate 
whitewash  (when  we  turn  them  away  from  the  clergyman)  than 
to  look  at  Opie's  pitchy  canvases,  or  Fuseli's  livid  monsters. 
And  yet  there  is  one  day  in  the  year — a  day  when  old  George 
loved  with  all  his  heart  to  attend  it — when  I  think  St.  Paul's  pre- 
sented the  noblest  sight  in  the  whole  world :  when  five  thousand 
charity  children,  with  cheeks  like  nosegays,  and  sweet,  fresh 
voices,  sing  the  hymn  which  makes  every  heart  thrill  with  praise 
and  happiness.  I  have  seen  a  hundred  grand  sights  in  the  world 
— coronations,  Parisian  splendors,  Crystal  Palace  openings,  Pope's 
chapels,  with  their  processions  of  long-tailed  cardinals  and  quav- 
ering choirs  of  fat  soprani — but  think  in  all  Christendom  there  is 
no  such  sight  as  Charity  Children's  Day.     Non  Angli,  sed  angeli. 


GEORGE   THE   THIRD.  65 

As  one  looks  at  that  beautiful  multitude  of  innocents :  as  the  first 
note  strikes:  indeed  one  may  almost  fancy  that  cherubs  are 
singing. 

Of  church  music  the  king  was  always  very  fond,  showing  skill 
in  it  both  as  a  critic  and  a  performer.  Many  stories,  mirthful 
and  affecting,  are  told  of  his  behavior  at  the  concerts  which  he 
ordered.  When  he  was  blind  and  ill  he  chose  the  music  for  the 
Ancient  Concerts  once,  and  the  music  and  words  which  he 
selected  were  from  Samson  Agonistes,  and  all  had  reference  to 
his  blindness,  his  captivity,  and  his  affliction.  He  would  beat 
time  with  his  music-roll  as  they  sang  the  anthem  in  the  Chapel 
Koyal.  If  the  page  below  was  talkative  or  inattentive,  down 
would  come  the  music-roll  on  young  scape-grace's  powdered 
head.  The  theater  was  always  his  delight.  His  bishops  and 
clergy  used  to  attend  it,  thinking  it  no  shame  to  appear  where 
that  good  man  was  seen.  He  is  said  not  to  have  cared  for  Shak- 
speare  or  tragedy  much ;  farces  and  pantomime  were  his  joy ;  and 
especially  when  clown  swallowed  a  carrot  or  a  string  of  suasages, 
he  would  laugh  so  outrageously  that  the  lovely  Princess  by  his 
side  would  have  to  say,  "  My  gracious  monarch,  do  compose 
yourself."  But  he  continued  to  laugh,  and  at  the  very  smallest 
farces,  as  long  as  his  poor  wits  were  left  him. 

There  is  something  to  me  exceedingly  touching  in  that  simple 
early  life  of  the  king's.  As  long  as  his  mother  lived — a  dozen 
years  after  his  marriage  with  the  little  spinnet-player — he  was  a 
great,  shy,  awkward  boy,  under  the  tutelage  of  that  hard  parent. 
She  must  have  been  a  clever,  domineering,  cruel  woman.  She 
kopt  her  household  lonely  and  in  gloom,  mistrusting  almost  all 
people  who  came  about  her  children.  Seeing  the  young  Duke 
of  Gloucester  silent  and  unhappy  once,  she  sharply  asked  him 
the  cause  of  his  silence.  "  I  am  thinking,"  said  the  poor  child. 
"  Thinking,  sir  !  and  of  what  ?"  "  I  am  thinking  if  ever  I  have 
a  son  I  will  not  make  him  so  unhappy  as  you  make  me."  The 
other  sons  were  all  wild,  except  George.  Dutifully  every  even- 
ing George  and  Charlotte  paid  their  visit  to  the  king's  mother  at 
Carlton  House.  She  had  a  throat  complaint,  of  which  she  died  ; 
but  to  the  last  persisted  in  driving  about  the  streets  to  show  she 
was  alive.  The  night  before  her  death  the  resolute  woman  talked 
with  her  son  and  daughter-in-law  as  usual,  went  to  bed,  and  was 
found  dead  there  in  the  morning.     :!  Geoiyc,  lie  a  king!"  were 


66  THE    FOUR    GEORGES. 

the  words  which  she  was  for  ever  croaking  in  the  ears  of  her 
son  :  and  a  king  the  simple,  stubborn,  affectionate,  bigoted  man 
tried  to  be. 

He  did  his  best;  lie  worked  according  to  his  lights;  what 
virtue  he  knew,  he  tried  to  practice ;  what  knowledge  he  could 
master,  he  strove  to  acquire.  He  was  for  ever  drawing  maps, 
for  example,  and  learned  geography  with  no  small  care  and 
industry.  He  knew  all  about  the  family  histories  and  genealo- 
gies of  his  gentiy,  and  preity  histories  he  must  have  known. 
He  knew  the  whole  Army  List ;  and  all  the  facings,  and  the 
exact  number  of  the  buttons,  and  all  the  tags  and  laces,  and  the 
cut  of  all  the  cocked  hats,  pigtails,  and  gaiters  in  his  army.  He 
knew  the  personnel  of  the  Universities ;  what  doctors  were 
inclined  to  Socinianism,  and  who  were  sound  Churchmen ;  he 
knew  the  etiquettes  of  his  own  and  his  grandfather's  courts  to  a 
nicety,  and  the  smallest  particulars  regarding  the  routine  of  min- 
isters, secretaries,  embassies,  audiences;  the  humblest  page  in 
the  ante-room,  or  the  meanest  helper  in  the  stables  or  kitchen. 
These  parts  of  the  royal  business  he  was  capable  of  learning,  and 
he  learned.  But,  as  one  thinks  of  an  office,  almost  divine,  per- 
formed by  any  mortal  man — of  any  single  being  pretending  to 
control  the  thoughts,  to  direct  the  faith,  to  order  the  implicit 
obedience  of  brother  milions,  to  compel  them  into  war  at  his 
offense  or  quarrel;  to  command,  "In  this  way  you  shall  trade, 
in  this  way  you  shall  think;  these  neighbors  shall  be  your  allies 
whom  you  shall  help,  these  others  your  enemies  whom  ye  shall 
slay  at  my  orders ;  in  this  way  you  shall  worship  God" — who 
can  wonder  that,  when  such  a  man  as  George  took  such  an  office 
on  himself,  punishment  and  humiliation  should  fall  upon  people 
and  chief  ? 

Yet  there  is  something  grand  about  his  courage.  The  battle 
of  the  king  with  his  aristocracy  remains  yet  to  be  told  by  the 
historian  who  shall  view  the  reign  of  George  more  justly  than 
the  trumpery  panegyrists  who  wrote  immediately  after  his 
decease.  It  was  he,  with  the  people  to  back  him,  who  made 
the  war  with  America ;  it  was  he  and  the  people  who  refused 
justice  to  the  Roman  Catholics;  and  on  both  questions  he  beat 
the  patricians.  He  bribed  :  he  bullied  :  he  darkly  dissembled  on 
occasion :  he  exercised  a  slippery  perseverance,  and  a  vindictive 
resolution,  which  one  almost  admires  as  one  thinks  his  character 


GEORGE   THE   THIRD.  67 

over.  His  courage  was  never  to  be  beat.  It  trampled  North 
under  foot :  it  bent  the  stiff  neck  of  the  younger  Pitt :  even  his 
illness  never  conquered  that  indomitable  spirit.  As  soon  as  his 
brain  was  clear  it  resumed  the  scheme,  only  laid  aside  when  his 
reason  left  him  :  as  soon  as  his  hands  were  out  of  the  strait- 
waistcoat  they  took  up  the  pen  and  plan  which  had  engaged  him 
up  to  the  moment  of  his  malady.  I  believe  it  is  by  persons 
believing  themselves  in  the  right  that  nine-tenths  of  the  tyranny 
of  this  world  has  been  perpetrated.  Arguing  on  that  convenient 
premiss,  the  Dey  of  Algiers  would  cut  off  twenty  heads  of  a 
morning ;  Father  Dominic  would  burn  a  score  of  Jews  in  the 
presence  of  the  Most  Catholic  King,  and  the  Archbishops  of 
Toledo  and  Salamanca  sing  Amen.  Protestants  were  roasted, 
Jesuits  hung  and  quartered  at  Smithfield,  and  witches  burned  at 
Salem,  and  all  by  worthy  people,  who  believed  they  had  the  best 
authority  for  their  actions.  And  so,  with  respect  to  old  George, 
even  Americans,  whom  he  hated  and  who  conquered  him,  may 
give  him  credit  for  having  quite  honest  reasons  for  oppressing 
them.  Appended  to  Lord  Brougham's  biographical  sketch  of 
Lord  North  are  some  autograph  notes  of  the  king,  which  let  us 
most  curiously  into  the  state  of  his  mind.  "  The  times  certainly 
require,"  says  he,  "the  concurrence  of  all  who  wish  to  prevent 
anarchy.  I  have  no  wish  but  the  prosperity  of  my  own  domin- 
ions, therefore  I  must  look  upon  all  who  would  not  heartily  assist 
me  as  bad  men,  as  well  as  bad  subjects."  That  is  the  way  he 
reasoned.  "I  wish  nothing  but  good,  therefore  every  man  who 
does  not  agree  with  me  is  a  traitor  and  a  scoundrel."  Remember 
that  he  believed  himself  anointed  by  a  Divine  commission- 
remember  that  he  was  a  man  of  slow  parts  and  imperfect  edu- 
cation ;  that  the  same  awful  will  of  Heaven  which  placed  a  crown 
upon  his  head,  which  made  him  tender  to  his  family,  pure  in  his  life, 
courageous  and  honest,  made  him  dull  of  comprehension,  obsti- 
nate of  will,  and  at  many  times  deprived  him  of  reason.  He 
was  the  father  of  his  people ;  his  rebellious  children  must  be 
flogged  into  obedience.  He  was  the  defender  of  the  Protestant 
faith  ;  he  would  rather  lay  that  stout  head  upon  the  block  than 
that  Catholics  should  have  a  share  in  the  government  of  England. 
Ami  you  do  not  suppose  that  there  are  not  honest  bigots  enough 
in  all  countries  to  back  kings  in  this  kind  of  statesmanship? 
Without  doubt  the  American  war  was  popular  in  England.     In 


68  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

1775  the  address  in  favor  of  coercing  the  colonies  was  carried  by 
three  hundred  and  four  to  one  hundred  and  five  in  the  Commons, 
by  -one  hundred  and  four  to  twenty-nine  in  the  House  of  Lords. 
Popular? — so  was  the  Revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes  popu- 
lar in  France  :  so  was  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew :  so  was 
the  Inquisition  exceedingly  popular  in  Spain. 

Wars  and  revolutions  are,  however,  the  politician's  province . 
The  great  events  of  this  long  reign,  the  statesmen  and  orators 
who  illustrated  it,  I  do  not  pretend  to  make  the  subjects  of  an 
hour's  light  talk.  Let  us  return  to  our  humbler  duty  of  court 
gossip.  Yonder  sits  our  little  queen,  surrounded  by  many  stout 
sons  and  fair  daughters  whom  she  bore  to  her  faithful  George. 
The  history  of  the  daughters,  as  little  Miss  Burney  has  painted 
them  to  us,  is  delightful.  They  were  handsome — she  calls  them 
beautiful ;  they  were  most  kind,  loving,  and  lady-like  ;  they 
were  gracious  to  every  person,  high  and  low,  who  served  them. 
They  had  many  little  accomplishments  of  their  own.  This  one 
drew  :  that  one  played  the  piano :  they  all  worked  most  prodigi- 
ously, and  fitted  up  whole  suits  of  rooms — pretty,  smiling  Pen- 
elopes— with  their  busy  little  needles.  As  we  picture  to  our- 
selves tue  society  of  eighty  years  ago,  we  must  imagine  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  groups  of  women  in  great  high  caps,  tight  bodies, 
and  full  skirts,  needling  away,  while  one  of  the  number,  or  per- 
haps a  favored  gentleman  in  a  pigtail,  reads  out  a  novel  to  the 
company.  Peep  into  the  cottage  at  Olney,  for  example,  and  see 
there  Mrs.  Unwin  and  Lady  Hesketh,  those  high-bred  ladies, 
those  sweet,  pious  women,  and  William  Cowper,  that  delicate 
wit,  that  trembling  pietist,  that  refined  gentleman,  absolutely 
reading  out  Jonathan  Wild  to  the  ladies !  What  a  change  in 
our  manners,  in  our  amusements,  since  then  ! 

King  George's  household  was  a  model  of  an  English  gentle- 
man's household.  It  was  early ;  it  was  kindly ;  it  was  chari- 
table;  it  was  frugal;  it  was  orderly ;  it  must  have  been  stupid 
to  a  degree  which  I  shudder  now  to  contemplate.  No  wonder 
all  the  princes  ran  away  from  the  lap  of  that  dreary  domestic 
virtue.  It  always  rose,  rode,  dined  at  stated  intervals.  Day 
after  day  was  the  same.  At  the  same  hour  at  night  the  king 
kissed  his  daughters'  jolly  cheeks;  the  princesses  kissed  their 
mother's  hand ;  and  Madame  Thielke  brought  the  royal  night- 
cap.    At  the  same  hour  the  equerries  and  women  in  waiting  had 


GEORGE   THE  THIRD.  69 

their  little  dinner,  and  cackled  over  their  tea.  The  king  had  his 
backgammon  or  his  evening  concert;  the  equerries  yawned 
themselves  to  death  in  the  ante-room ;  or  the  king  and  his  family- 
walked  on  Windsor  slopes,  the  king  holding  his  darling  little 
Princess  Amelia  by  the  hand ;  and  the  people  crowded  round 
quite  good-naturedly ;  and  the  Eton  boys  thrust  their  chubby 
cheeks  under  the  crowd's  elbows ;  and  the  concert  over,  the 
king  never  failed  to  take  his  enormous  cocked  hat  off,  and  salute 
his  band,  and  say,  "  Thank  you,  gentlemen." 

A  quieter  household,  a  more  prosaic  life  than  this  of  Kew  or 
Windsor,  can  not  be  imagined.  Eain  or  shine,  the  king  rode 
every  day  for  hours ;  poked  his  red  face  into  hundreds  of  cot- 
tages round  about,  and  showed  that  shovel  hat  and  Windsor 
uniform  to  farmers,  to  pig-boys,  to  old  women  making  apple- 
dumplings  ;  to  all  sorts  of  people,  gentle  and  simple,  about  whom 
countless  stories  are  told.  Nothing  can  be  more  undignified 
than  these  stories.  When  Haroun  Alraschid  visits  a  subject  in- 
cog., the  latter  is  sure  to  be  very  much  the  better  for  the  calif's 
magnificence.  Old  George  showed  no  such  royal  splendor.  He 
used  to  give  a  guinea  sometimes :  sometimes  feel  in  his  pockets 
and  find  he  had  no  money :  often  ask  a  man  a  hundred  ques- 
tions ;  about  the  number  of  his  family,  about  his  oats  and  beans, 
about  the  rent  he  paid  for  his  house,  and  ride  on.  On  one 
occasion  he  played  the  part  of  King  Alfred,  and  turned  a  piece 
of  meat  with  a  string  at  a  cottager's  house.  When  the  old 
woman  came  home,  she  found  a  paper  with  an  inclosure  of 
money,  and  a  note  written  by  the  royal  pencil :  "  Five  guineas 
to  buy  a  jack."  It  was  not  splendid,  but  it  was  kind  and  worthy 
of  Farmer  George.  One  day,  when  the  king  and  queen  were 
walking  together,  they  met  a  little  boy — they  were  always  fond 
of  children,  the  good  folks — and  patted  the  little  white  head. 
"  Whose  little  boy  are  you  ?"  asks  the  Windsor  uniform.  "  I  aui 
the  king's  beef-eater's  little  boy,"  replied  the  child.  On  which 
the  king  said,  "  Then  kneel  down  and  kiss  the  queen's  hand." 
But  the  innocent  offspring  of  the  beef-eater  declined  this  treat. 
"  No,"  said  he,  "  I  won't  kneel,  for  if  I  do,  I  shall  spoil  my  new 
breeches."  The  thrifty  king  ought  to  have  hugged  him  and 
knighted  him  on  the  spot.  George's  admirers  wrote  pages  and 
pages  of  such  stories  about  him.  One  morning,  before  anybody 
else  was  up,  the  king  walked  about  Gloucester  town;  pushed 


70  THE  FOUR   GEORGES. 

over  Molly  the  housemaid,  who  was  scrubbing  the  door-steps 
with  her  pail ;  ran  up  stairs  and  woke  all  the  equerries  in  their 
bedrooms ;  and  then  trotted  down  to  the  bridge,  where,  by  this 
time,  a  dozen  of  louts  were  assembled.  "  What !  is  this  Glouces- 
ter New  Bridge  ?"  asked  our  gracious  monarch  ;  and  the  people 
answered  him,  "  Yes,  your  Majesty."  "  Why,  then,  my  boys," 
said  he,  "let  us  have  a  huzza  !"  After  giving  them  which 
intellectual  gratification,  he  went  home  to  breakfast.  Our  fathers 
read  these  simple  tales  with  fond  pleasure  ;  laughed  at  these  very 
small  jokes ;  liked  the  old  man  who  poked  his  nose  into  every 
cottage  ;  who  lived  on  plain  wholesome  roast  and  boiled  ;  who 
despised  your  French  kickshaws ;  who  was  a  true,  hearty  old 
English  gentleman.  You  may  have  seen  Gilray's  famous  print 
of  him — in  the  old  wig,  in  the  stout  old  hideous  Windsor  uni- 
form— as  the  King  of  Brobdignag,  peering  at  a  little  Gulliver, 
whom  he  holds  up  in  one  hand,  while  in  the  other  he  has  an 
opera-glass,  through  which  he  surveys  the  pigmy  ?  Our  fathers 
chose  to  set  up  George  as  the  type  of  a  great  king  ;  and  the  little 
Gulliver  was  the  great  Napoleon.  We  prided  ourselves  on  our 
prejudices;  we  blustered  and  bragged  with  absurd  vain-glory ; 
we  dealt  to  our  enemy  a  monstrous  injustice  of  contempt  and 
scorn ;  we  fought  him  with  all  weapons,  mean  as  well  as  heroic. 
There  was  no  lie  we  would  not  believe ;  no  charge  of  crime 
which  our  furious  prejudice  would  not  credit.  I  thought  at  one 
time  of  making  a  collection  of  the  lies  which  the  French  had 
written  against  us,  and  we  had  published  against  them  during 
the  war  :  it  would  be  a  strange  memorial  of  popular  falsehood. 

Their  majesties  were  very  sociable  potentates  :  and  the  Court 
chronicler  tells  of  numerous  visits  which  they  paid  to  their  sub- 
jects, gentle  and  simple  :  with  whom  they  dined ;  at  whose  great 
country-houses  they  stopped ;  or  at  whose  poorer  lodgings  they 
atl'ably  partook  of  tea  and  bread-and-butter.  Some  of  the  great 
folks  spent  enormous  sums  in  entertaining  their  sovereigns.  As 
marks  of  special  favor  the  king  and  queen  sometimes  stood  as 
sponsors  for  the  children  of  the  nobility.  We  find  Lady  Salis- 
bury was  so  honored  in  the  year  1786;  and  in  the  year  1802, 
Lady  Chesterfield.  The  Court  News  relates  how  her  ladyship 
received  their  majesties  on  a  state  bed  "  dressed  with  white  satin 
and  a  profusion  of  lace ;  the  counterpane  of  white  satin  em- 
broidered  with  sold,  and  the  bed  of  crimson  satin   lined  with 


GEORGE   THE  THIRD.  71 

white."  The  child  was  first  brought  by  the  nurse  to  the  Mar- 
chioness of  Bath,  who  presided  as  chief  nurse.  Then  the  mar- 
chioness handed  baby  to  the  queen.  Then  the  queen  handed  the 
little  darling  to  the  Bishop  of  Norwich,  the  officiating  clergyman; 
and,  the  ceremony  over,  a  cup  of  caudle  was  presented  by  the 
earl  to  his  majesty  on  one  kuee,  on  a  large  gold  waiter,  placed 
on  a  crimson  velvet  cushion.  Misfortunes  would  occur  in  these 
interesting  genufleetory  ceremonies  of  royal  worship.  Bubb 
Dodington,  Lord  Melcombe,  a  very  fat,  puffy  man,  in  a  most 
gorgeous  court-suit,  had  to  kneel,  Cumberland  says,  and  was  so 
fat  and  so  tight  that  he  could  not  get  up  again.  "  Kneel,  sir, 
kneel !"  cried  my  lord  in  waiting  to  a  country  mayor  who  had  to 
read  an  address,  but  who  went  on  with  his  compliment  standing. 
"  Kneel,  sir,  kneel !"  cries  my  lord,  in  dreadful  alarm.  "  I  can't!" 
cries  the  mayor,  turning  round ;  "  don't  you  see  I  have  got  a 
wooden  leg?" 

In  the  capital  Barney  Diary  and  Letters  the  home  and  court 
life  of  good  old  King  George  and  good  old  Queen  Charlotte  are 
presented  at  portentous  length.  The  king  rose  every  morning 
at  six ;  and  had  two  hours  to  himself.  He  thought  it  effeminate 
to  have  a  carpet  in  his  bedroom.  Shortly  before  eight  the  queen 
and  the  royal  family  were  always  ready  for  him,  and  they  pro- 
ceeded to  the  king's  chapel  in  the  castle.  There  were  no  fires 
in  the  passages  :  the  chapel  was  scarcely  alight :  princesses,  gov- 
ernesses, equerries  grumbled  and  caught  cold  ;  but  cold  or  hot, 
it  was  their  duty  to  go ;  and,  wet  or  dry,  light  or  dark,  the 
stout  old  George  was  always  in  his  place  to  say  Amen  to  the 
chaplain. 

The  queen's  character  is  represented  in  Bumey  at  full  length. 
She  was  a  sensible,  most  decorous  woman  ;  a  very  grand  lady 
on  state  occasions,  simple  enough  in  ordinary  life  ;  well  read  as 
times  went,  and  giving  shrewd  opinions  about  books;  stingy,  but 
not  unjust;  not  generally  unkind  to  her  dependents,  but  invin- 
cible in  her  notions  of  etiquette,  and  quite  angry  if  her  people 
suffered  ill  health  in  her  service.  She  gave  Miss  Burney  a 
shabby  pittance,  and  led  the  poor  young  woman  a  life  which 
well-nigh  killed  her.  She  never  thought  but  that  she  was  doing 
Burney  the  greatest  favor  in  taking  her  from  freedom,  fame,  and 
competence,  and  killing  her  off  with  languor  in  that  dreary  court. 
It  wa-:  not  dreary  to  her.     Had  she  been  servant  instead  of  mis- 


12  THE  FOUR  GEORGES. 

tress,  her  spirit  would  never  havo  broken  down ;  she  never 
would  have  put  a  pin  out  of  place,  or  been  a  moment  from  her 
duty.  She  was  not  weak,  and  she  could  not  pardon  those  who 
were.  She  was  perfectly  correct  in  life,  and  she  hated  poor  sin- 
ners with  a  rancor  such  as  virtue  sometimes  has.  She  must 
have  had  awful  private  trials  of  her  own  :  not  merely  with  her 
children,  but  with  her  husband,  in  those  long  days  about  which 
nobody  will  ever  know  any  thing  now  ;  when  he  was  not  quite 
insane  ;  when  his  incessant  tongue  was  babbling  folly,  rage, 
persecution  ;  and  she  had  to  smile  and  be  respectful  and  atten- 
tive under  this  intolerable  ennui.  The  queen  bore  all  her  duties 
stoutly,  as  she  expected  others  to  bear  them.  At  a  State 
christening  the  lady  who  held  the  infant  was  tired  and  looked 
unwell,  and  the  Princess  of  Wales  asked  permission  for  her  to 
sit  down.  "  Let  her  stand,"  said  the  queen,  flicking  the  snuff 
off  her  sleeve.  She  would  have  stood,  the  resolute  old  woman, 
if  she  had  had  to  hold  the  child  till  baa  beard  was  grown.  "  I 
am  seventy  years  of  age,"  the  queen  said,  lacing  a  mob  of  ruffi- 
ans who  stopped  her  sedan  :  "  I  have  been  fifty  years  queen  of 
England,  and  I  never  was  insulted  before."  Fearless,  rigid,  un- 
forgiving little  queen !  I  don't  wonder  that  her  sons  revolted 
from  her. 

Of  all  the  figures  in  that  large  family  group  which  surrounds 
George  and  his  queen,  the  prettiest,  I  think,  is  the  father's  dar- 
ling, the  Princess  Amelia,  pathetic  for  her  beauty,  her  sweetness, 
her  early  death,  and  for  the  extreme  passionate  tenderness  with 
which  her  father  loved  her.  This  was  his  favorite  among  all  the 
children ;  of  his  sons,  he  loved  the  Duke  of  York  best.  Bur- 
ney  tells  a  sad  story  of  the  poor  old  man  at  Weymouth,  and  how 
eager  he  was  to  have  this  darling  son  with  him.  The  king's 
house  was  not  big  enough  to  hold  the  prince ;  and  his  father  had 
a  portable  house  erected  close  to  his  own,  and  at  huge  pains,  so 
that  his  dear  Frederick  should  be  near  him.  He  clung  on  his 
arm  all  the  time  of  his  visit;  talked  to  no  one  else;  had  talked 
of  no  one  else  for  some  time  before.  The  prince,  so  long  ex- 
pected, staid  but  a  single  night.  He  had  business  in  London  the 
next  day,  he  said.  The  dullness  of  the  old  king's  court  stupefied 
York  and  the  other  big  sons  of  George  III.  They  scared  equer- 
ries and  ladies,   frightened  the  modest  little  circle,  with  their 


GEORGE    THE   THIRD.  73 

coarse  spirits  and  loud  talk.  Of  little  comfort,  indeed,  were  the 
king's  sons  to  the  king. 

But  the  pretty  Amelia  was  his  darling  ;  and  the  little  maiden, 
prattling  and  smiling  in  the  fond  arms  of  that  old  father,  is  a 
sweet  image  to  look  on.  There  is  a  family  picture  in  Burney, 
which  a  man  must  be  very  hard-hearted  not  to  like.  She  de- 
scribes an  after-dinner  walk  of  the  royal  family  at  Windsor  : 
"It  was  really  a  mighty  pretty  procession,"  she  says.  "The 
little  princess,  just  turned  of  three  years  old,  in  a  robe-coat 
covered  with  fine  muslin,  a  dressed  close  cap,  white  gloves,  and 
fan,  walked  on  alone  and  first,  highly  delighted  with  the  parade, 
and  turning  from  side  to  side  to  see  every  body  as  she  passed  ; 
for  all  the  terracers  stand  up  against  the  walls,  to  make  a  clear 
passage  for  the  royal  family,  the  moment  they  come  in  sight. 
Then  followed  the  king  and  queen,  no  less  delighted  with  the 
joy  of  their  little  darling.  The  Princess  Boyal  leaning  on  Lady 
Elizabeth  Waldegrave,  the  Princess  Augusta  holding  by  the 
Duchess  of  Ancaster,  the  Princess  Elizabeth  led  by  Lady  Char- 
lotte Bertie,  followed.  Office  here  takes  place  of  rank,"  says 
Burney,  to  explain  how  it  was  that  Lady  E.  Waldegrave,  as 
lady  of  the  bedchamber,  walked  before  a  duchess;  "General 
Bude,  and  the  Duke  of  Montague,  and  Major  Price  as  equerry, 
brought  up  the  rear  of  the  procession."  One  sees  it :  the  band 
playing  its  old  music ;  the  sun  shining  on  the  happy,  loyal  crowd, 
and  lighting  the  ancient  battlements,  the  rich  elms,  and  purple 
landscape,  and  bright  green-sward ;  the  royal  standard  drooping 
from  the  great  tower  yonder,  as  old  George  passes,  followed  by 
his  race,  preceded  by  the  charming  infant,  who  caresses  the 
crowd  with  her  innocent  smiles. 

"  On  sight  of  Mrs.  Delany,  the  king  instantly  stopped  to  speak 
to  her ;  the  queen,  of  course,  and  the  little  princess,  and  all  the 
rest,  stood  still.  They  talked  a  good  while  with  the  sweet  old 
lady,  during  which  time  the  king  once  or  twice  addressed  him- 
self to  me.  I  caught  the  queen's  eye,  and  saw  in  it  a  little  sur- 
prise, but  by  no  means  any  displeasure,  to  see  me  of  the  party. 
The  little  princess  went  up  to  Mrs.  Delany,  of  whom  she  is  very 
fond,  and  behaved  like  a  little  angel  to  her.  She  then,  with  a 
look  of  inquiry  and  recollection,  came  behind  Mrs.  Delany,  to 
look  at  me.  '  I  am  afraid,'  said  I,  in  a  whisper,  and  stooping 
down,  'your  Royal  Highness  does  not  remember  me?'     Her 

4 


74  THE   FOUK   GEORGES. 

answer  was  an  arch  little  smile,  and  a  nearer  approach,  with  her 
lips  pouted  out  to  kiss  me." 

The  princess  wrote  verses  herself,  and  there  are  some  pretty 
plaintive  lines  attributed  to  her,  which  are  more  touching  than 
better  poetry : 

"Unthinking,  idle,  wild,  and  young, 
I  laughed,  and  danced,  and  talked,  and  sung : 
And,  proud  of  health,  of  freedom  .vain, 
Dreamed  not  of  sorrow,  care,  or  pain : 
Concluding,  in  those  hours  of  glee, 
That  all  the  world  was  made  for  me. 

"But  when  the  hour  of  trial  came, 
When  sickness  shook  this  trembling  frame, 
When  folly's  gay  pursuits  were  o"er, 
And  I  could  sing  and  dance  no  more, 
It  then  occurred,  how  sad  'twould  be 
Were  this  world  only  made  for  me." 

The  poor  soul  quitted  it — and  ere  yet  she  was  dead  the  ago- 
nized father  was  in  such  a  state  that  the  officers  round  about  him 
were  obliged  to  set  watchers  over  him,  and  from  November, 
1810,  George  III.  ceased  to  reign.  All  the  world  knows  the 
story  of  his  malady :  all  history  presents  no  sadder  figure  than 
that  of  the  old  man,  blind  and  deprived  of  reason,  wandering 
through  the  rooms  of  his  palace,  addressing  imaginary  parlia- 
ments, reviewing  fancied  troops,  holding  ghostly  courts.  I  have 
seen  his  picture  as  it  was  taken  at  this  time,  hanging  in  the 
apartment  of  his  daughter,  the  Landgravine  of  Hesse  Hombourg 
— amidst  books  and  Windsor  furniture,  and  a  hundred  fond 
reminiscences  of  her  English  home.  The  poor  old  father  is 
represented  in  a  purple  gown,  his  snowy  beard  falling  over  his 
breast — the  star  of  his  famous  Order  still  idly  shining  on  it. 
He  was  not  only  sightless  :  he  became  utterly  deaf.  All  light, 
all  reason,  all  sound  of  human  voices,  all  the  pleasures  of  this 
world  of  God,  were  taken  from  him.  Some  slight  lucid  mo- 
ments he  had;  in  one  of  which  the  queen,  desiring  to  see  him, 
entered  the  room,  and  found  him  singing  a  hymn,  and  accom- 
panying himself  at  the  harpsichord.  When  he  had  finished,  he 
knelt  down  and  prayed  aloud  for  her,  and  then  for  his  family, 
and  then  for  the  nation,  concluding  with  a  prayer  for  himself, 
that  it  might  please  God  to  avert  his  heavy  calamity  from  him, 
but  if  not,  to  give  him  resignation  to  submit.  He  then  burst 
into  tears,  and  his  reason  again  fled. 


GEORGE   THE   THIRD.  15 

What  preacher  need  moralize  on  this  story  ?  what  words  save 
the  simplest  are  requisite  to  tell  it  ?  It  is  too  terrible  for  tears. 
The  thought  of  such  a  misery  smites  me  down  in  submission 
before  the  Ruler  of  kings  and  men,  the  Monarch  Supreme  over 
empires  and  republics,  the  inscrutable  Dispenser  of  life,  death, 
happiness,  victory.  "Oh  brothers!"  I  said  to  those  who  heard 
me  first  in  America — "  Oh  brothers  1  speaking  the  same  dear 
mother  tongue — oh  comrades  !  enemies  no  more,  let  us  take  a 
mournful  hand  together  as  we  stand  by  this  royal  corpse,  and 
call  a  truce  to  battle !  Low  he  lies  to  whom  the  proudest  used 
to  kneel  once,  and  who  was  cast  lower  than  the  poorest :  dead, 
whom  millions  prayed  for  in  vain.  Driven  off  his  throne  ;  buf- 
feted by  rude  hands  ;  with  his  children  in  revolt ;  the  darling  of 
his  old  age  killed  before  him  untimely ;  our  Lear  hangs  over  her 
breathless  lips  and  cries,  '  Cordelia,  Cordelia,  stay  a  little  !' 

'Vex  not  his  ghost — oh  !  let  him  pass— he  hates  him 
That  would  upon  the  rack  of  this  tough  world 
Stretch  him  out  longer !' 

Hush!  Strife  and  Quarrel,  over  the  solemn  grave!  Sound, 
Trumpets,  a  mournful  march!  Fall,  Dark  Curtain,  upon  his 
pageant,  his  pride,  his  grief,  his  awful  tragedy!" 


GEORGE    THE    FOURTH. 


IN  Twiss's  amusing  Life  of  Eldon,  we  read  how,  on  the  death 
of  the  Duke  of  York,  the  old  chancellor  became  possessed 
of  a  lock  of  the  defunct  prince's  hair ;  and  so  careful  was  he 
respecting  the  authenticity  of  the  relic,  that  Bessy  Eldon  his  wife 
sate  in  the  room  with  the  young  man  from  Hamlet's,  who  dis- 
tributed the  ringlet  into  separate  lockets,  which  each  of  the 
Eldon  family  afterward  wore.  You  know  how,  when  George 
IV.  came  to  Edinburgh,  a  better  man  than  he  went  on  board 
the  royal  yacht  to  welcome  the  king  to  his  kingdom  of  Scotland, 
seized  a  goblet  from  which  his  majesty  had  just  drunk,  vowed  it 
should  remain  forever  as  an  heir-loom  in  his  family,  clapped  the 
precious  glass  in  his  pocket,  and  sate  down  on  it  and  broke  it 
when  he  got  home.  Suppose  the  good  sheriff's  prize  unbroken 
now  at  Abbotsford,  should  we  not  smile  with  something  like  pity 
as  we  beheld  it?  Suppose  one  of  those  lockets  of  the  no- 
Popery  prince's  hair  offered  for  sale  at  Christie's,  qtiot  libras  e  duce 
summo  invenies?  how  many  pounds  would  you  find  for  the  illus- 
trious duke?  Madame  Tussaud  has  got  King  George's  corona- 
tion robes ;  is  there  any  man  now  alive  who  would  kiss  the  hem 
of  that  trumpery  ?  He  sleeps  since  thirty  years :  do  not  any  of 
you,  who  remember  him,  wonder  that  you  once  respected  and 
huzza'd  and  admired  him  ? 

To  make  a  portrait  of  him  at  first  seemed  a  matter  of  small 
difficulty.  There  is  his  coat,  his  star,  his  wig,  his  countenance 
simpering  under  it :  with  a  slate  and  a  piece  of  chalk,  I  could  at 
this  very  desk  perform  a  recognizable  likeness  of  him.  And  yet 
after  reading  of  him  in  scores  of  volumes,  hunting  him  through 
old  magazines  and  newspapers,  having  him  here  at  a  ball,  there 
at  a  public  dinner,  there  at  races  and  so  forth,  you  find  you  have 


GEORGE  TIIE   FOURTH.  77 

nothing — nothing  but  a  coat  and  wig  and  a  mask  smiling  below 
it — nothing  but  a  great  simulacrum.  His  sire  and  grandsires 
were  men.  One  knows  what  they  were  like  :  what  they  would 
do  in  given  circumstances :  that  on  occasion  they  fought  and 
demeaned  themselves  like  tough  good  soldiers.  They  had  friends 
whom  they  liked  according  to  their  natures;  enemies  whom  they 
hated  fiercely ;  passions,  and  actions,  and  individualities  of  their 
own.  The  sailor  king  who  came  after  George  was  a  man :  the 
Duke  of  York  was  a  man,  big,  burly,  loud,  jolly,  cursing,  cour- 
ageous. But  this  George,  what  was  he  ?  I  look  through  all  his 
life,  and  recognize  but  a  bow  and  a  grin.  I  try  aud  take  him  to 
pieces,  and  find  silk  stockings,  padding,  stays,  a  coat  with  frogs 
and  a  fur  collar,  a  star  and  blue  ribbon,  a  pocket-handkerchief 
prodigiously  scented,  one  of  Truefitt's  best  nutty  brown  .wigs 
reeking  with  oil,  a  set  of  teeth  and  a  huge  black  stock,  under- 
waistcoats,  more  underwaistcoats,  and  then  nothing.  I  know  of 
no  sentiment  that  he  ever  distinctly  uttered.  Documents  are 
published  under  his  name,  but  people  wrote  them — private  let- 
ters, but  people  spelled  them.  He  put  a  great  George  P.  or 
George  E.  at  the  bottom  of  the  page  and  fancied  he  had  written 
the  paper :  some  bookseller's  clerk,  some  poor  author,  some  man 
did  the  work  ;  saw  to  the  spelling :  cleaned  up  the  slovenly  sen- 
tences, and  gave  the  lax  maudlin  slipslop  a  sort  of  consistency. 
He  must  have  had  an  individuality :  the  dancing-master  whom 
he  emulated,  nay,  surpassed — the  wig-maker  who  curled  his 
toupee  for  him — the  tailor  who  cut  his  coats,  had  that.  But, 
about  George,  one  can  get  at  nothing  actual.  That  outside,  I  am 
certain,  is  pad  and  tailor's  work ;  there  may  be  something  be- 
hind, but  what  ?  We  can  not  get  at  the  character ;  no  doubt 
never  shall.  Will  men  of  the  future  have  nothing  better  to  do 
than  to  unswathe  and  interpret  that  royal  old  mummy  ?  I  own 
I  once  used  to  think  it  would  be  good  sport  to  pursue  him,  fasten 
on  him,  and  pull  him  down.  But  now  I  am  ashamed  to  mount 
and  lay  good  dogs  on,  to  summon  a  full  field,  and  then  to  hunt 
the  poor  game. 

On  the  12th  August,  1762,  the  forty-seventh  anniversary  of 
the  accession  of  the  House  of  Brunswick  to  the  English  throne, 
all  the  bells  in  London  pealed  in  gratulation,  and  announced  that 
an  heir  to  George  III.  was  born.  Five  days  afterward  the  king 
was  pleased  to  pass  letters  patent  under  the  great  seal,  creating 


78  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

H.R.H.  the  Prince  of  Great  Britain,  Electoral  Prince  of  Bruns- 
wick Liineburg,  Duke  of  Cornwall  and  Rothsay,  Earl  of  Carrick, 
Baron  of  Renfrew,  Lord  of  the  Isles,  and  Great  Steward  of 
Scotland,  Prince  of  Wales  and  Earl  of  Chester. 

All  the  people  at  his  birth  thronged  to  see  this  lovely  child ; 
and  behind  a  gilt  china-screen  railing  in  St.  James's  Palace,  in  a 
cradle  surmounted  by  the  three  princely  ostrich  feathers,  the 
royal  infant  was  laid  to  delight  the  eyes  of  the  lieges.  Among 
the  earliest  instances  of  homage  paid  to  him,  I  read  that  "  a 
curious  Indian  bow  and  arrows  were  sent  to  the  prince  from  his 
father's  faithful  subjects  in  New  York."  He  was  fond  of  playing 
with  these  toys :  an  old  statesman,  orator,  and  wit  of  his  grand- 
father's and  great-grandfather's  time,  never  tired  of  his  business, 
still  eager  in  his  old  age  to  be  well  at  court,  used  to  play  with 
the  little  prince,  and  pretend  to  fall  down  dead  when  the  prince 
shot  at  him  with  his  toy  bow  and  arrows — and  get  up  and  fall 
down  dead  over  and  over  again — to  the  increased  delight  of  the 
child.  So  that  he  was  flattered  from  his  cradle  upward ;  and 
before  his  little  feet  could  walk,  statesmen  and  courtiers  were 
busy  kissing  them. 

There  is  a  pretty  picture  of  the  royal  infant — a  beautiful 
buxom  child — asleep  in  his  mother's  lap ;  who  turns  round  and 
holds  a  finger  to  her  lip,  as  if  she  would  bid  the  courtiers  around 
respect  the  baby's  slumbers.  Prom  that  day  until  his  decease, 
sixty-eight  years  after,  I  suppose  there  were  more  pictures  taken 
of  that  personage  than  of  any  other  human  being  who  ever  was 
born  and  died — in  every  kind  of  uniform  and  every  possible 
court-dress — in  long  fair  hair,  with  powder,  with  and  without  a 
pig-tail — in  every  conceivable  cocked-hat — in  dragoon  uniform 
— in  "Windsor  uniform — in  a  field-marshal's  clothes — in  a  Scotch 
kilt  and  tartans,  with  dirk  and  claymore  (a  stupendous  figure) — 
in  a  frogged  frockcoat  with  a  fur  collar  and  tight  breeches  and 
silk  stockings — in  wigs  of  every  color,  fair,  brown,  and  black — 
in  his  famous  coronation  robes  finally,  with  which  performance 
he  was  so  much  in  love  that  he  distributed  copies  of  the  picture 
to  all  the  courts  and  British  embassies  in  Europe,  and  to  num- 
berless clubs,  town-halls,  and  private  friends.  I  remember  as  a 
young  man  how  almost  every  dining-room  had  his  portrait. 

There  is  plenty  of  biographical  tattle  about  the  prince's  boy- 
hood.    It  is  told  with  what  astonishing  rapidity  he  learned  all 


GEORGE   THE  FOURTH.  79 

languages,  ancient  and  modern ;  how  he  rode  beautifully,  sang 
charmingly,  and  played  elegantly  on  the  violoncello.  That  he 
was  beautiful  was  patent  to  all  eyes.  He  had  a  high  spirit :  and 
once,  when  he  had  had  a  difference  with  liis  father,  burst  into 
the  royal  closet  and  called  out,  "  Wilkes  and  liberty  for  ever !" 
He  was  so  clever  that  he  confounded  his  very  governors  in 
learning  ;  and  one  of  them,  Lord  Bruce,  having  made  a  false 
quantity  in  quoting  Greek,  the  admirable  young  prince  instantly 
corrected  him.  Lord  Bruce  could  not  remain  a  governor  after 
this  humiliation ;  resigned  his  office,  and,  to  soothe  his  feelings, 
was  actually  promoted  to  be  an  earl !  It  is  the  most  wonderful 
reason  for  promoting  a  man  that  ever  I  heard.  Lord  Bruce  was 
made  an  earl  for  a  blunder  in  prosody ;  and  Nelson  was  made  a 
baron  for  the  victory  of  the  Nile. 

Lovers  of  long  sums  have  added  up  the  millions  and  millions 
which,  in  the  course  of  his  brilliant  existence,  this  single  prince 
consumed.  Besides  his  income  of  fifty  thousand  pounds,  sev- 
enty thousand  pounds,  one  hundred  thousand  pounds,  and  one 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand  pounds  a  year,  we  read  of  three 
applications  to  Parliament :  debts  to  the  amount  of  one  hundred 
and  sixty  thousand  pounds,  of  six  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
pounds;  besides  mysterious  foreign  loans,  whereof  he  pocketed 
the  proceeds.  What  did  he  do  for  all  this  money  ?  Why  was 
he  to  have  it?  If  he  had  been  a  manufacturing  town,  or  a 
populous  rural  district,  or  an  army  of  five  thousand  men,  he 
would  not  have  cost  more.  He,  one  solitary  stout  man,  who  did 
not  toil,  nor  spin,  nor  fight — what  had  any  mortal  done  that  he 
should  be  pampered  so  ? 

In  1784,  when  he  was  twenty-one  years  of  age,  Carlton 
Palace  was  given  to  him,  and  furnished  by  the  nation  with  as 
much  luxury  as  could  be  devised.  His  pockets  were  filled  with 
money:  he  said  it  was  not  enough;  he  flung  it  out  of  window: 
he  spent  ten  thousand  pounds  a  year  for  the  coats  on  his  back. 
The  nation  gave  him  more  money,  and  more,  and  more.  The 
sum  is  past  counting.  He  was  a  prince,  most  lovely  to  look  on, 
and  christened  Prince  Florizel  on  his  first  appearance  in  the 
world.  That  he  was  the  handsomest  prince  in  the  whole  world 
was  agreed  by  men,  and  alas  !  by  many  women. 

I  suppose  lie  must  have  been  very  graceful.  There  are  so 
many  testimonies  to   the  charm  of  his  manner  that  we  must 


80  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

allow  him  great  elegance  and  powers  of  fascination.  He,  and 
the  King  of  France's  brother,  the  Count  d'Artois,  a  charming 
young  prince  who  danced  deliciously  on  the  tight-rope — a  poor 
old  tottering  exiled  king,  who  asked  hospitality  of  King  George's 
successor,  and  lived  a  while  in  the  palace  of  Mary  Stuart — 
divided  in  their  youth  the  title  of  first  gentleman  of  Europe. 
We  in  England  of  course  gave  the  prize  to  our  gentleman.  Un- 
til George's  death  the  propriety  of  that  award  was  scarce  ques- 
tioned or  the  doubters  voted  rebels  and  traitors.  Only  the  other 
day  I  was  reading  in  the  reprint  of  the  delightful  Nodes  of 
Christopher  North.  The  health  of  THE  KING  is  drunk  in 
large  capitals  by  the  loyal  Scotsman.  You  would  fancy  him  a 
hero,  a  sage,  a  statesman,  a  pattern  for  kings  and  men.  It  was 
Walter  Scott  who  had  that  accident  with  the  broken  glass  I 
spoke  of  anon.  He  was  the  king's  Scottish  champion,  rallied  all 
Scotland  to  him,  made  loyalty  the  fashion,  and  laid  about  him 
fiercely  with  his  claymore  upon  all  the  prince's  enemies.  The 
Brunswicks  had  no  such  defenders  as  those  two  Jacobite  com- 
moners, old  Sam  Johnson  the  Lichfield  chapman's  son,  and  Wal- 
ter Scott,  the  Edinburgh  lawyer's. 

Nature  and  circumstance  had  done  their  utmost  to  prepare 
the  prince  for  being  spoiled  :  the  dreadful  dullness  of  papa's 
court,  its  stupid  amusements,  its  dreary  occupations,  the  madden- 
ing humdrum,  the  stifling  sobriety  of  its  routine,  would  have 
made  a  scape-grace  of  a  much  less  lively  prince.  All  the  big 
princes  bolted  from  that  castle  of  ennui  where  old  King  George 
sat,  posting  up  his  books  and  droning  over  his  Handel;  and  old 
Queen  Charlotte  over  her  snuff  and  her  tambour-frame.  Most 
of  the  sturdy,  gallant  sons  settled  down  after  sowing  their  wild 
oats,  and  became  sober  subjects  of  their  father  and  brother — not 
ill-liked  by  the  nation,  which  pardons  youthful  irregularities 
readily  enough,  for  the  sake  of  pluck,  and  unaffectedness,  and 
good-humor. 

The  boy  is  father  of  the  man.  Our  prince  signalized  his 
entrance  into  the  world  by  a  feat  worthy  of  his  future  life.  He 
invented  a  new  shoe-buckle.  It  was  an  inch  long  and  five  inches 
broad.  "  It  covered  almost  the  whole  instep,  reaching  down  to 
the  ground  on  either  side  of  the  foot."  A  sweet  invention ! 
lovely  and  useful  as  the  prince  on  whose  foot  it  sparkled.  At  his 
first  appearance  at  a  court-ball,  we  read  that  "  his  coat  was  pink 


GEORGE   THE   FOURTH.  81 

silk,  with  white  cuffs;  his  waistcoat  white  silk,  embroidered  with 
various  colored  foil,  and  adorned  with  a  profusion  of  French 
paste.  And  his  hat  was  ornamented  with  two  rows  of  steel 
beads,  five  thousand  in  number,  with  a  button  and  loop  of  the 
same  metal,  and  cocked  in  a  new  military  style."  What  a  Flor- 
izel !  Do  these  details  seem  trivial  ?  They  are  the  grave  inci- 
dents of  his  life.  His  biographers  say  that  when  he  commenced 
housekeeping  in  that  splendid  new  palace  of  his,  the  Prince  of 
Wales  had  some  windy  projects  of  encouraging  literature,  science, 
and  the  arts ;  of  having  assemblies  of  literary  characters ;  and 
societies  for  the  encouragement  of  geography,  astronomy,  and 
botany.  Astronomy,  geography,  and  botany !  Fiddle-sticks ! 
n-ench  ballet-dancers,  French  cooks,  horse-jockeys,  buffoons, 
procurers,  tailors,  boxers,  fencing-masters,  china,  jewel,  and  gim- 
orack  merchants — those  were  his  real  companions.  At  first  he 
made  a  pretense  of  having  Burke,  and  Pitt,  and  Sheridan  fur  his 
fri'-nds.  But  how  could  such  men  be  serious  before  such  an 
empty  scape-grace  as  this  lad  ?  Fox  might  talk  dice  with  him, 
and  Sheridan  wine  ;  but  what  else  had  these  men  of  genius  in 
common  with  their  tawdry  young  host  of  Carlton  House  ?  That 
fribble  the  leader  of  such  men  as  Fox  and  Burke !  That  man's 
opinions  about  the  constitution,  the  India  Bill,  justice  to  the 
Catholics — about  any  question  graver  than  the  button  for  a 
waistcoat  or  the  sauce  for  a  partridge — worth  any  thing !  The 
friendship  between  the  prince  and  the  Whig  chiefs  was  impos- 
sible. They  were  hypocrites  in  pretending  to  respect  him,  and 
if  he  broke  the  hollow  compact  between  them  who  shall  blame 
him  ?  His  natural  companions  were  dandies  and  parasites.  He 
could  talk  to  a  tailor  or  a  cook  ;  but,  as  the  equal  of  great  states- 
men, to  set  up  a  creature,  lazy,  weak,  indolent,  besotted,  of 
monstrous  vanity,  and  levity  incurable — it  is  absurd.  They 
thought  to  use  him,  and  did  for  a  while :  but  they  must  have 
known  how  timid  he  was ;  how  entirely  heartless  and  treacher- 
ous, and  have  expected  his  desertion.  His  next  set  of  friends 
were  mere  table  companions,  of  whom  he  grew  tired  too ;  then 
we  hear  of  him  with  a  very  few  select  toadies,  mere  boys  from 
school  or  the  Guards,  whose  sprighlliness  tickled  the  fancy  of  the 
worn  out  voluptuary.  '  What  matters  what  friends  he  had?  He 
dropped  all  his  friends ;  he  never  could  have  real  friends.     An 

4* 


82  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

heir  to  the  throne  has  flatterers,  adventurers  who  hang  about 
him,  ambitious  men  who  use  him ;  but  friendship  is  denied  him. 

And  women,  I  suppose,  are  as  false  and  selfish  in  their  dealings 
with  such  a  character  as  men.  Shall  we  take  the  Leporello  part, 
flourish  a  catalogue  of  the  conquests  of  this  royal  Don  Juan,  and 
tell  the  names  of  the  favorites  to  whom,  one  after  the  other, 
George  Prince  flung  his  pocket-handkerchief?  What  purpose 
would  it  answer  to  say  how  Perdita  was  pursued,  won,  deserted, 
and  by  whom  succeeded?  What  good  in  knowing  that  he  did 
actually  marry  Mrs.  FitzHerbert  according  to  the  rites  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church ;  that  her  marriage  settlements  have 
been  seen  in  London ;  that  the  names  of  the  witnesses  to  her 
marriage  are  known.  This  sort  of  vice  that  we  are  now  come 
to  presents  no  new  or.  fleeting  trait  of  manners.  Debauchees, 
dissolute,  heartless,  fickle,  cowardly,  have  been  ever  since  the 
world  began.  This  one  had  more  temptations  than  most,  and  so 
much  may  be  said  in  extenuation  for  him. 

It  was  an  unlucky  thing  for  this  doomed  one,  and  tending  to 
lead  him  yet  farther  on  the  road  to  the  deuce,  that  besides  being 
lovely,  so  that  women  were  fascinated  by  him ;  and  heir-appar- 
ent, so  that  all  the  world  flattered  him  ;  he  should  have  a  beau- 
tiful voice,  which  led  him  directly  in  the  way  of  drink ;  and  thus 
all  the  pleasant  devils  were  coaxing  on  poor  Florizel ;  desire,  and 
idleness,  and  vanity,  and  drunkenness,  all  clashing  their  merry 
cymbals  and  bidding  him  come  on. 

We  first  hear  of  his  warbling  sentimental  ditties  under  the  walls 
of  Kew  Palace  by  the  moonlight  banks  of  Thames,  with  Lord 
Viscount  Leporello  keeping  watch  lest  the  music  should  be  dis- 
turbed. 

Singing  after  dinner  and  supper  was  the  universal  fashion  of 
the  day.  You  may  fancy  all  England  sounding  with  choruses, 
some  ribald,  some  harmless,  but  all  occasioning  the  consumption 
of  a  prodigious  deal  of  fermented  liquor. 

"  The  jolly  muse  her  wings  to  try  no  frolic  flights  need  take, 
But  round  the  bowl  would  dip  and  fly,  like  swallows  round  a  lake," 

sang  Morris  in  one  of  his  gallant  Anacreontics,  to  which  the 
prince  many  a  time  joined  in  chorus,  and  of  which  the  burden  is, 

"And  that  I  think  's  a  reason  fair  to  drink  and  fill  again." 


GEORGE   THE   FOURTH.  83 

This  delightful  boon  companion  of  the  prince's  found  "  a  reason 
fair"  to  forego  filling  and  drinking,  saw  the  error  of  his  ways, 
gave  up  the  bowl  and  chorus,  and  died  retired  and  religious. 
The  prince's  table,  no  doubt,  was  a  very  tempting  one.  The 
wits  came  and  did  their  utmost  to  amuse  him.  It  is  wonderful 
how  the  spirits  rise,  the  wit  brightens,  the  wine  has  an  aroma, 
when  a  great  man  is  at  the  head  of  the  table.  Scott,  the  loyal 
cavalier,  the  king's  true  liegeman,  the  very  best  raconteur  of  his 
time,  poured  out  with  an  endless  generosity  his  store  of  old-world 
learning,  kindness^  and  humor.  Grattan  contributed  to  it  his 
wondrous  eloquence,  fancy,  feeling.  Tom  Moore  perched  upon 
it  for  a  while,  and  piped  his  most  exquisite  little  love-tunes  on 
it,  flying  away  in  a  twitter  of  indignation  afterward,  and  attack- 
ing the  prince  with  bill  and  claw.  In  such  society  no  wonder 
the  sitting  was  long,  and  the  butler  tired  of  drawing  corks. 
Remember  what  the  usages  of  the  time  were,  and  that  William 
Pitt,  coming  to  the  House  of  Commons  after  having  drunk  a 
bottle  of  port-wine  at  his  own  house,  would  go  into  Bellamy's 
with  Dundas,  and  help  finish  a  couple  more. 

You  peruse  volumes  after  volumes  about  our  prince,  and  find 
some  half-dozen  stock  stories — indeed  not  many  more — common 
to  all  the  histories.  He  was  good-natured  ;  an  indolent,  volup- 
tuous prince,  not  unkindly.  One  story,  the  most  favorable  to 
him  of  all  perhaps,  is  that  as  Prince  Regent,  he  was  eager  to  hear 
all  that  could  be  said  in  behalf  of  prisoners  condemned  to  death, 
and  anxious,  if  possible,  to  remit  the  capital  sentence.  He  was 
kind  to  his  servants.  There  is  a  story  common  to  all  biographies, 
of  Molly  the  housemaid,  who,  when  his  household  was  to  be 
broken  up,  owing  to  some  reforms  which  he  tried  absurdly  to 
practice,  was  discovered  crying,  as  she  dusted  the  chairs,  because 
she  was  to  leave  a  master  who  had  a  kind  word  for  all  his  serv- 
ants. Another  tale  is  that  of  a  groom  of  the  prince's  being  dis- 
covered in  corn  and  oat  peculations,  and  dismissed  by  the  per- 
sonage at  the  head  of  the  stables;  the  prince  had  word  of  John's 
disgrace,  remonstrated  with  him  very  kindly,  generously  rein- 
stated him,  and  bade  him  promise  to  sin  no  more — a  promise 
which  John  kept.  Another  story  is  very  fondly  told  of  the 
prince  as  a  young  man  hearing  of  an  officer's  family  in  distress, 
and  how  he  straightway  borrowed  six  or  eight  hundred  pounds, 
put  his  long,  fair  hair  under  his  hat,  and  so  disguised  carried  the 


84  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

money  to  tne  starving  family.  He  sent  money,  too,  to  Sheridan  on 
his  deathbed,  Mid  would  have  sent  more  had  not  death  ended  the 
career  of  that  man  of  genius.  Besides  these,  there  are  a  few  pretty 
speeches,  kind  and  graceful,  to  persons  with  whom  he  was 
brought  in  contact.  But  he  turned  upon  twenty  friends.  He 
was  fond  and  familiar  with  them  one  day,  and  he  passed  them 
on  the  next  without  recognition.  He  used  them,  liked  them, 
loved  them  perhaps  in  his  way,  and  then  separated  from  them. 
On  Monday  he  kissed  and  fondled  poor  Perdita,  and  on  Tuesday 
he  met  her  and  did  not  know  her.  On  Wednesday  he  was  very 
affectionate  with  that  wretched  Brummell,  and  on  Thursday  for-  ■ 
got  him ;  cheated  him  even  out  of  a  snuff-box  which  he  owed 
the  poor  dandy ;  saw  him,  years  afterward,  in  his  downfall  and 
poverty,  when  the  bankrupt  Beau  sent  him  another  snuff-box, 
with  some  of  the  snuff  he  used  to  love,  as  a  piteous  token  of 
remembrance  and  submission,  and  the  king  took  the  snuff,  and 
ordered  his  horses  and  drove  on,  and  had  not  the  grace  to  notice 
his  old  companion,  favorite,  rival,  enemy,  superior.  In  Wraxall 
there  is  some  gossip  about  him.  When  the  charming,  beautiful, 
generous  Duchess  of  Devonshire  died — the  lovely  lady  whom  he 
used  to  call  his  dearest  duchess  once,  and  pretend  to  admire  as 
all  English  society  admired  her — he  said,  "Then  we  have  lost 
the  best  bred  woman  in  England."  "  Then  we  have  lost  the 
kindest  heart  in  England,"  said  noble  Charles  Fox.  On  another 
occasion,  when  three  noblemen  were  to  receive  the  Garter,  says 
Wraxall,  "  a  great  personage  observed  that  never  did  three  men 
receive  the  order  in  so  characteristic  a  manner.  The  Duke  of  A. 
advanced  to  the  sovereign  with  a  phlegmatic,  cold,  awkward  air, 
like  a  clown ;  Lord  B.  came  forward  fawning  and  smiling  like  a 
courtier ;  Lord  C.  presented  himself  easy,  unembarrassed,  like  a 
gentleman."  These  are  the  stories  one  has  to  recall  about  the 
prince  and  king — kindness  to  a  housemaid,  generosity  to  a  groom, 
criticism  on  a  bow.  There  are  no  better  stories  about  him .  they 
are  mean  and  trivial,  and  they  characterize  him.  The  great  war 
of  empires  and  giants  goes  on.  Day  by  day  victories  are  won 
and  lost  by  the  brave.  Torn,  smoky  flags  and  battered  eagles 
are  wrenched  from  the  heroic  enemy  and  laid  at  his  feet ;  and  he 
sits  there  on  his  throne  and  smiles,  and  gives  the  guerdon  of 
valor  to  the  conqueror.  He  !  Elliston  the  actor,  when  the  Cor- 
onation was  performed,  in  which  he  took  the  principal  part,  used 


GEORGE   THE   FOURTH.  85 

to  fancy  himself  the  king,  burst  into  tears,  and  hiccup  a  blessing 
on  the  people.  I  believe  it  is  certain  about  George  IV.  that  he 
had  heard  so  much  of  the  war,  knighted  so  many  people,  and 
■worn  such  a  prodigious  quantity  of  marshals'  uniforms,  cocked 
hats,  cocks'  feathers,  scarlet  and  bullion  in  general,  that  he  actu- 
ally fancied  he  had  been  present  in  some  campaigns,  and,  under 
the  name  of  General  Brock,  led  a  tremendous  charge  of  the  Ger- 
man legion  at  Waterloo. 

He  is  dead  but  thirty  years,  and  one  asks  how  a  great  society 
could  have  tolerated  him  ?  Would  we  bear  him  now  ?  In  this 
quarter  of  a  century  what  a  silent  revolution  has  been  working  I 
How  it  has  separated  us  from  old  times  and  manners  I  How  it 
has  changed  men  themselves  1  I  can  see  old  gentlemen  now 
among  us,  of  perfect  good  breeding,  of  quiet  lives,  with  vener- 
able gray  heads,  fondling  their  grandchildren ;  and  look  at  them, 
and  wonder  at  what  they  were  once.  That  gentleman  of  the 
grand  old  school,  when  he  was  in  the  Tenth  Hussars,  and  dined 
at  the  prince's  table,  would  fall  under  it  night  after  night.  Night 
after  night  that  gentleman  sat  at  Brookes's,  or  Baggett's,  over 
the  dice.  If,  in  the  petulance  of  play  or  drink,  that  gentleman 
spoke  a  sharp  word  to  his  neighbor,  he  and  the  other  would  in- 
fallibly go  out  and  try  to  shoot  each  other  the  next  morning. 
That  gentleman  would  drive  his  friend  Eichmond,  the  black 
boxer,  down  to  Moulsey,  and  hold  his  coat,  and  shout,  and  swear, 
and  hurrah  with  delight,  while  the  blackman  was  beating  Dutch 
Sam  the  Jew.  That  gentleman  would  take  a  manly  pleasure  in 
pulling  his  own  coat  off,  and  thrashing  a  bargeman  in  a  street 
row.  That  gentleman  has  been  in  a  watch-house.  That  gentle- 
man, so  exquisitely  polite  with  ladies  in  a  drawing-room,  so 
loftily  courteous,  if  he  talked  now  as  he  used  among  men  in  his 
youth,  would  swear  so  as  to  make  your  hair  stand  on  end.  I 
met  lately  a  very  old  German  gentleman,  who  had  served  in  our 
army  at  the  beginning  of  the  century.  Since  then  he  has  lived 
on  his  own  estate,  but  rarely  meeting  with  an  Englishman,  whose 
language — the  language  of  fifty  years  ago,  that  is — he  possesses 
perfectly.  When  this  highly  bred  old  man  began  to  speak  Eng- 
lish to  me,  almost  every  other  word  he  uttered  was  an  oath  :  as 
they  used  it  (they  swore  dreadfully  in  Flanders)  with  the  Duke 
of  York  before  Valenciennes,  or  at  Carlton  House  over  the  sup- 
per and  cards.     Bead  Byron's  letters.     So  accustomed  is  the 


86  THE   FOUK   GEORGES. 

young  man  to  oaths  that  he  employs  them  even  in  writing  to  his 
friends,  and  swears  by  the  post.  Read  his  account  of  the  doings 
of  young  men  at  Cambridge ;  of  the  ribald  professors,  one  of 
whom  "  could  pour  out  Greek  like  a  drunken  Helot,"  and  whose 
excesses  surpassed  even  those  of  the  young  men.  Read  Mat- 
thews's  description  of  the  boyish  lordling's  housekeeping  at  New- 
stead  ;  the  skull-cap  passed  round,  the  monks'  dresses  from  the 
masquerade  warehouse,  in  which  the  young  scapegraces  used  to 
sit  until  daylight,  chanting  appropriate  songs  round  their  wine. 
"  We  come  to  breakfast  at  two  or  three  o'clock,"  Matthews  says. 
"  There  are  gloves  and  foils  for  those  who  like  to  amuse  them- 
selves, or  we  fire  pistols  at  a  mark  in  the  hall,  or  we  worry  the 
wolf."  A  jolly  life  truly  !  The  noble  young  owner  of  the  man- 
sion writes  about  such  affairs  himself  in  letters  to  his  friend  Mr. 
John  Jackson,  pugilist,  in  London. 

All  the  prince's  time  tells  a  similar  strange  story  of  manners 
and  pleasure.  In  Wraxall  we  find  the  prime  minister  himself, 
the  redoubted  "William  Pitt,  engaged  in  high  jinks  with  person- 
ages of  no  less  importance  than  Lord  Thurlow,  the  lord  chancel- 
lor, and  Mr.  Dundas,  the  treasurer  of  the  navy.  »  Wraxall  relates 
how  these  three  statesmen,  returning  after  dinner  from  Addis- 
combe,  found  a  turnpike  open,  and  galloped  through  it  without 
paying  the  toll.  The  turnpike  man,  fancying  they  were  high- 
waymen, fired  a  blunderbuss  after  them,  but  missed  them ;  and 
the  poet  sang — 

"How  as  Pitt  wandered  darkling  o'er  the  plain, 
His  reason  drown'd  in  Jenkinson's  Champagne, 
A  rustic's  hand,  but  righteous  fate  withstood, 
Had  shed  a  premier's  for  a  robber's  blood." 

Here  we  have  the  treasurer  of  the  navy,  the  lord  high  chancel- 
lor, and  the  prime  minister,  all  engaged  in  a  most  undoubted 
lark.  In  Eldon's  Memoirs,  about  the  very  same  time,  I  read  that 
the  bar  loved  wine,  as  well  as  the  woolsack.  Not  John  Scott 
himself;  he  was  a  good  boy  always;  and  though  he  loved  port- 
wine,  loved  his  business  and  his  duty  and  his  fees  a  great  deal 
better. 

He  has  a  Northern  Circuit  story  of  those  days,  about  a  party 
at  the  house  of  a  certain  Lawyer  Fawcett,  who  gave  a  dinner 
every  year  to  the  counsel. 


GEOEGE   THE   FOURTH.  87 

"  On  one  occasion,"  related  Lord  Eldon,  "  I  heard  Lee  say,  '  I 
can  not  leave  Fawcett's  wine.  Mind,  Davenport,  you  will  go 
home  immediately  after  dinner,  to  read  the  brief  in  that  cause 
that  we  have  to  conduct  to-morrow.' 

"  '  Not  I,'  said  Davenport.  '  Leave  my  dinner  and  my  wine 
to  read  a  brief!     No,  no,  Lee ;  that  won't  do.' 

" '  Then,'  said  Lee,  '  what  is  to  be  done  ?  who  else  is  em- 
ployed ?' 

"  Davenport.     '  Oh  !  young  Scott.' 

"  Lee.  '  Oh !  he  must  go.  Mr.  Scott,  you  must  go  home  im- 
mediately, and  make  yourself  acquainted  with  that  cause,  before 
our  consultation  this  evening.' 

"  This  was  very  hard  upon  me ;  but  I  did  go,  and  there  was  an 
attorney  from  Cumberland,  and  one  from  Northumberland,  and 
I  do  not  know  how  many  other  persons.  Pretty  late,  in  came 
Jack  Lee,  as  drunk  as  he  could  be. 

"  '  I  can  not  consult  to-night ;  I  must  go  to  bed,'  he  exclaimed, 
and  away  he  went.     Then  came  Sir  Thomas  Davenport. 

" '  We  can  not  have  a  consultation  to-night,  Mr.  Wordsworth' 
(WordswTorth,  I  think,  was  the  name ;  it  was  a  Cumberland 
name),  shouted  Davenport.  '  Don't  you  see  how  drunk  Mr. 
Scott  is  ?  it  is  impossible  to  consult.'  Poor  me  !  who  had  scarce 
had  any  dinner,  and  lost  all  my  wine — I  was  so  drunk  that  I 
could  not  consult !  Well,  a  verdict  was  given  against  us,  and  it 
was  all  owing  to  Lawyer  Fawcett's  dinner.  We  moved  for  a 
new  trial ;  and  I  must  say,  for  the  honor  of  the  bar,  that  those 
two  gentlemen,  Jack  Lee  and  Sir  Thomas  Davenport,  paid  all  the 
expenses  between  them  of  the  first  trial.  It  is  the  only  instance 
I  ever  knew,  but  they  did.  We  moved  for  a  new  trial  (on  the 
ground,  I  suppose,  of  the  counsel  not  being  in  their  senses),  and 
it  was  granted.  When  it  came  on,  the  following  year,  the  judge 
rose  and  said : 

"  '  Gentlemen,  did  any  of  you  dine  with  Lawyer  Fawcett 
yesterday  ?  for,  if  you  did,  I  will  not  hear  this  cause  till  next 
year.' 

"  There  wras  great  laughter.     We  gained  the  cause  that  time." 

On  another  occasion,  at  Lancaster,  where  poor  Bozzy  must 
needs  be  going  the  Northern  Circuit,  "  we  found  him,"  says  Mr. 
Scott,  "  lying  upon  the  pavement  inebriated.  We  subscribed  a 
guinea  at  supper  for  him,  and  a  half  crown  for  his  clerk" — (no 


88  THE    FOUR    GEORGES. 

doubt  there  was  a  large  bar,  and  that  Scott's  joke  did  not  cost 
him  much),  "and  sent  him,  when  he  waked  next  morning,  a 
brief,  with  instructions  to  move  for  what  we  denominated  the 
writ  of  quare  adhcesit  pavimento  ?  with  observations  duly  calcu- 
lated to  induce  him  to  think  that  it  required  great  learning  to 
explain  the  necessity  of  granting  it,  to  the  judge  before  whom  he 
was  to  move."  Boswell  sent  all  round  the  town  to  attorneys  for 
books,  that  might  enable  hirn  to  distinguish  himself — but  in  vain. 
He  moved,  however,  for  the  writ,  making  the  best  use  he  could 
of  the  observations  in  the  brief.  The  judge  was  perfectly  aston- 
ished, and  the  audience  amazed.  The  judge  said,  "  I  never  heard 
of  such  a  writ — what  can  it  be  that  adheres  pavimento  f  Are 
any  of  you  gentlemen  at  the  bar  able  to  explain  this  ?" 

The  bar  laughed.     At  last  one  of  them  said  : 

"  My  lord,  Mr.  Boswell  last  night  adhcesit  pavimento.  There 
was  no  moving  him  for  some  time.  At  last  he  was  carried 
to  bed,  and  he  has  been  dreaming  about  himself  and  the  pave- 
ment." 

The  canny  old  gentleman  relishes  these  jokes.  When  the 
Bishop  of  London  was  moving  from  the  deanery  of  St.  Paul's, 
he  says  he  asked  a  learned  friend  of  his,  by  name  Will  Hay,  how 
he  should  move  some  especially  fine  claret,  about  which  he  was 
anxious. 

"  Pray,  my  lord  bishop,"  says  Hay,  "  how  much  of  the  wine 
have  you  ?" 

The  bishop  said  six  dozen. 

"  If  that  is  all,"  Hay  answered,  "you  have  but  to  ask  me  six 
times  to  dinner,  and  I  will  carry  it  all  away  myself." 

There  were  giants  in  those  days ;  but  this  joke  about  wine  is 
not  so  fearful  as  one  perpetrated  by  Orator  Thelwall,  in  the  heat 
of  the  French  Revolution,  ten  years  later,  over  a  frothing  pot  of 
porter.  He  blew  the  head  off,  and  said,  "  This  is  the  way  I 
would  serve  all  kings." 

Now  we  come  to  yet  higher  personages,  and  find  their  doings 
recorded  in  the  blushing  pages  of  timid  little  Miss  Burney's 
Memoirs.  She  represents  a  prince  of  the  blood  in  quite  a  royal 
condition.  The  loudness,  the  bigness,  boisterousness,  creaking 
boots,  and  rattling  oaths,  of  the  young  princes,  appeared  to  have 
frightened  the  prim  household  of  Windsor,  and  set  all  the  tea- 
cups twittering  on  the  tray.    On  the  night  of  a  ball  and  birthday, 


GEORGE  THE   FOURTH.  89 

when  one  of  the  pretty,  kind  princesses  was  to  come  out,  it  was 
agreed  that  her  brother,  Prince  William  Henry,  should  dance  the 
opening  minuet  with  her,  and  he  came  to  visit  the  household  at 
their  dinner. 

"  At  dinner  Mrs.  Schwellenberg  presided,  attired  magnifi- 
cently ;  Miss  Goldsworthy,  Mrs.  Stanfortb,  Messrs.  Du  Luc  and 
Stanhope,  dined  with  us ;  and  while  we  were  still  eating  fruit 
the  Duke  of  Clarence  entered. 

"  He  was  just  risen  from  the  king's  table,  and  waiting  for  his 
equipage  to  go  home  and  prepare  for  the  ball.  To  give  you  an 
idea  of  the  energy  of  his  royal  highness's  language,  I  ought  to  set 
apart  an  objection  to  writing,  or  rather  intimating,  certain  for- 
cible words,  and  beg  leave  to  show  you  in  genuine  colors  a 
royal  sailor. 

"  We  all  rose,  of  course,  upon  his  entrance,  and  the  two 
gentlemen  placed  themselves  behind  their  chairs,  while  the  foot- 
men left  the  room.  But  he  ordered  us  all  to  sit  down,  and 
called  the  men  back  to  hand  about  some  wine.  He  was  in  ex- 
ceeding high  spirits,  and  in  the  utmost  good  humor.  He  placed 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  table,  next  Mrs.  Schwellenberg,  and 
looked  remarkably  well,  gay,  and  full  of  sport  and  mischief;  yet 
clever  withal,  as  well  as  comical. 

"  '  Well,  this  is  the  first  day  I  have  ever  dined  with  the  king 
at  St.  James's  on  his  birthday.  Pray,  have  you  all  drunk  his 
Majesty's  health  ?' 

"  '  No,  your  royal  highness  ;  your  royal  highness  might  make 
dem  do  dat,'  said  Mrs.  Schwellenberg. 

"  '  Oh,  by ,  I  will !     Here,  you  (to  the  footman),  bring 

Champagne ;  I'll  drink  the  king's  health  again,  if  I  die  for  it. 
Yes,  I  have  done  it  pretty  well  already ;  so  has  the  king,  I 
promise  you  !  I  believe  his  Majesty  was  never  taken  such  good 
care  of  before ;  we  have  kept  his  spirits  up,  I  promise  you  ;  we 
have  enabled  him  to  go  through  his  fatigues  ;  and  I  should  have 
done  more  still,  but  lor  the  ball  and  Mary — I  have  promised  to 
dance  with  Mary.     I  must  keep  sober  for  Mary.'  " 

Indefatigable  Miss  Burney  continues  for  a  dozen  pages  report- 
ing H.RJL's  conversation,  and  indicating,  with  a  humor  not 
unworthy  of  the  clever  little  author  of  Evelina,  the  increasing 
state  of  excitement  of  the  young  sailor  prince,  who  drank  more 
and  more  Champagne,  stopped  old  Mrs.  Schwellenberg's  remon- 


90  THE    FOUR    GEORGES. 

strances  by  giving  the  old  lady  a  kiss,  and  telling  her  to  hold  her 
potato-trap,  and  who  did  not  "  keep  sober  for  Mary."  Mary  had 
to  find  another  partner  that  night,  for  the  royal  William  Henry 
could  not  keep  his  legs. 

Will  you  have  a  picture  of  the  amusements  of  another  royal 
prince  ?  It  is  the  Duke  of  York,  the  blundering  general,  the 
beloved  commander-in-chief  of  the  army,  the  brother  with  whom 
George  IV.  had  had  many  a  midnight  carouse,  and  who  con- 
tinued his  habits  of  pleasure  almost  till  death  seized  his  stout 
body. 

In  Piickler  Muskau's  Letters,  that  German  prince  describes  a 
bout  with  H.R.H.,  who  in  his  best  time  was  such  a  powerfnl 
toper  that  "  six  bottles  of  claret  after  dinner  scarce  made  a  per- 
ceptible change  in  his  countenance." 

"  I  remember,"  says  Piickler,  "  that  one  evening — indeed,  it 
was  past  midnight — he  took  some  of  his  guests,  among  whom 
were  the  Austrian  embassador.  Count  Meervelt,  Count  Beroldin- 
gen,  and  myself,  into  his  beautiful  armory.  We  tried  to  swing 
several  Turkish  sabres,  but  none  of  us  had  a  very  firm  grasp  ; 
whence  it  happened  that  the  Duke  and  Meervelt  both  scratched 
themselves  with  a  sort  of  straight  Indian  sword  so  as  to  draw 
blood.  Meervelt  then  wished  to  try  if  the  sword  cut  as  well  as 
a  Damascus,  and  attempted  to  cut  through  one  of  the  wax 
candles  that  stood  on  the  table.  The  experiment  answered  so  ill 
that  both  the  candles,  candlesticks  and  all,  fell  to  the  ground  and 
were  extinguished.  While  we  were  groping  in  the  dark  and 
trying  to  find  the  door,  the  duke's  aid-de-camp  stammered  out 
in  great  agitation,  'By  G — ,  sir,  I  remember  the  sword  is 
poisoned!' 

"  You  may  conceive  the  agreeable  feelings  of  the  wounded  at 
this  intelligence  1  Happily,  on  further  examination,  it  appeared 
that  claret,  and  not  poison,  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  colonel's 
exclamation." 

And  novf  I  have  one  more  story  of  the  bacchanalian  sort,  in 
which  Clarence  and  York,  and  the  very  highest  personage  of  the 
realm,  the  great  Prince  Regent,  all  play  parts.  The  feast  took 
place  at  the  Pavilion  at  Brighton,  and  was  described  to  me  by  a 
gentleman  who  was  present  at  the  scene.  In  Gilray's  carica- 
tures, and  among  Fox's  jolly  associates,  there  figures  a  great 
nobleman,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  called  Jockey  of  Norfolk  in  his 


GEORGE   THE    FOURTH.  91 

time,  and  celebrated  for  his  table  exploits.  He  had  quarreled 
with  the  prince,  like  the  rest  of  the  Whigs;  but  a  sort  of  recon- 
ciliation had  taken  place  ;  and  now,  being  a  very  old  man,  the 
prince  invited  him  to  dine  and  sleep  at  the  Pavilion,  and  the  old 
duke  drove  over  from  his  Castle  of  Arundel  with  his  famous 
equipage  of  gray  horses,  still  remembered  in  Sussex. 

The  Prince  of  Wales  had  concocted  with  his  royal  brothers  a 
notable  scheme  for  making  the  old  man  drunk.  Every  person 
at  table  was  enjoined  to  drink  wine  with  the  duke — a  challenge 
which  the  old  toper  did  not  refuse.  He  soon  began  to  see  that 
there  was  a  conspiracy  against  him ;  he  drank  glass  for  glass ;  he 
overthrew  many  of  the  brave.  At,  last  the  First  Gentleman  of 
Europe  proposed  bumpers  of  brandy.  One  of  the  royal  broth- 
ers filled  a  great  glass  for  the  duke.  He  stood  up  and  tossed  off 
the  drink.  "  Now,"  says  he,  "  I  will  have  my  carriage,  and  go 
home."  The  prince  urged  upon  him  his  previous  promise  to 
sleep  under  the  roof  where  he  had  been  so  generously  enter- 
tained. "  No,"  he  said,  he  had  had  enough  of  such  hospitality. 
A  trap  had  been  set  for  him ;  he  would  leave  the  place  at  once 
and  never  enter  its  doors  more. 

The  carriage  was  cailed,  and  came  ;  but  in  the  half-hour's 
interval  the  liquor  had  proved  too  potent  for  the  old  man  ;  his 
host's  generous  purpose  was  answered,  and  the  duke's  old  gray 
head  lay  stupefied  on  the  table.  Nevertheless,  when  his  post- 
chaise  was  announced,  he  staggered  to  it  as  well  as  he  could, 
and  stumbling  in,  bade  the  postillions  drive  to  Arundel.  They 
drove  him  for  half  an  hour  round  and  round  the  Pavilion  lawn  ; 
the  poor  old  man  fancied  he  was  going  home.  When  he  awoke 
that  morning  he  was  in  bed  at  the  prince's  hideous  house  at 
Brighton.  You  may  see  the  place  now  for  sixpence  :  they  have 
fiddlers  there  every  day  ;  and  sometimes  buffoons  and  mounte- 
banks hire  the  Riding  House  and  do  their  tricks  and  tumbling 
there.  The  trees  are  still  there,  and  the  gravel  walks  round 
which  the  poor  old  sinner  was  trotted.  I  can  fancy  the  flushed 
faces  of  the  royal  princes  as  they  support  themselves  at  the  por- 
tico pillars,  and  look  on  at  old  Norfolk's  disgrace ;  but  I  can't 
fancy  how  the  man  who  perpetrated  it  continued  to  bo  called  a 
gentleman. 

From  drinking  the  pleased  Muse  now  turns  to  gambling,  of 
which  in  his  youth  our  prince  was  a  great  practitioner.    He  was 


92  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

a  famous  pigeon  for  the  playmen  ;  they  lived  upon  him.  Egalite 
Orleans,  it  was  believed,  punished  him  severely.  A  noble  lord, 
whom  we  shall  call  the  Marquis  of  Steyne,  is  said  to  have 
mulcted  him  in  immense  sums.  He  frequented  the  clubs  where 
play  was  then  almost  universal ;  and  as  it  was  known  his  debts 
of  honor  were  sacred,  while  he  was  gambling  Jews  waited  out- 
side to  purchase  his  notes  of  hand.  His  transactions  on  the  turf 
were  unlucky  as  well  as  discreditable :  though  I  believe  he,  and 
his  jockey,  and  his  horse  Escape,  were  all  innocent  in  that  affair 
which  created  so  much  scandal. 

Arthur's,  Almack's,  Bootle's,  and  White's  were  the  chief  clubs 
of  the  young  men  of  fashion.  There  was  play  at  all,  and  de- 
cayed noblemen  and  broken-down  senators  fleeced  the  unwary 
there.  In  Selwyn's  Letters  we  find  Carlisle,  Devonshire,  Coven- 
try, Queensberry,  all  undergoing  the  probation.  Charles  Fox,  a 
dreadful  gambler,  was  cheated  in  very  late  times — lost  two  hun- 
dred thousand  pounds  at  play.  Gibbon  tells  of  his  playing  for 
twenty-two  hours  at  a  sitting  and  losing  five  hundred  pounds  an 
hour.  That  indomitable  punster  said  that  the  greatest  pleasure 
in  life,  after  winning,  was  losiug.  What  hours,  what  nights, 
what  health,  did  he  waste  over  the  devil's  books  !  I  was  going 
to  say  what  peace  of  mind  ;  but  he  took  his  losses  very  philo- 
sophically. After  an  awful  night's  play,  and  the  enjoyment  of  the 
greatest  pleasure  but  one  in  fife,  he  was  found  on  a  sofa  tranquilly 
reading  an  Eclogue  of  Virgil. 

Play  survived  long  after  the  wild  prince  and  Fox  had  given 
up  the  dice-box.  The  dandies  continued  it.  Byron,  Brummell 
— how  many  names  could  I  mention  of  men  of  the  world  who 
have  suffered  by  it !  In  1837  occurred  a  famous  trial  which 
pretty  nigh  put  an  end  to  gambling  in  England.  A  peer  of  the 
realm  was  found  cheating  at  whist,  and  repeatedly  seen  to  prac- 
tice the  trick  called  sauter  la  coupe.  His  friends  at  the  clubs  saw 
him  cheat,  and  went  on  playing  with  him.  One  greenhorn,  who 
had  discovered  his  foul  play,  asked  an  old  hand  what  he  should 
do.  "  Do,"  said  the  Mammon  of  Unrighteousness,  "  Back  him, 
you  fool."  The  best  efforts  were  made  to  screen  him.  People 
wrote  him  anonymous  letters  and  warned  him ;  but  he  would 
cheat,  and  they  were'  obliged  to  him  find  out.  Since  that  day,  when 
my  lord's  shame  was  made  public,  the  gaming-table  has  lost  all 
its  splendor.     Shabby  Jews  and  blacklegs  prowl  about  race- 


GEORGE  THE   FOURTH.  93 

courses  and  tavern  parlors,  and  now  and  then  inveigle  silly 
yokels  with  greasy  packs  of  cards  in  railroad  cars  ;  but  Play  is 
a  deposed  goddess,  her  worshipers  bankrupt,  and  her  table  in 
rags. 

So  is  another  famous  British  institution  gone  to  decay — the 
Ring  :  the  noble  practice  of  British  boxing,  which  in  my  youth 
was  still  almost  flourishing. 

The  prince,  in  his  early  days,  was  a  great  patron  of  this 
national  sport,  as  his  grand-uncle  Culloden  Cumberland  had  been 
before  him ;  but  being  present  at  a  fight  in  Brighton,  where  one 
of  the  combatants  was  killed,  the  p'rince  pensioned  the  boxer's 
widow,  and  declared  he  never  would  attend  another  battle. 
"But,  nevertheless" — I  read  in  the  noble  language  of  Pierce 
Egan  (whose  smaller  work  on  Pugilism  I  have  the  honor  to  pos- 
sess)— "  he  thought  it  a  manly  and  decided  English  feature  which 
ought  not  to  be  destroyed.  His  majesty  had  a  drawing  of  the 
sporting  characters  in  the  Fives'  Court  placed  in  his  boudoir,  to 
remind  him  of  his  former  attachment  and  support  of  true  courage  ; 
and  when  any  fight  of  note  occurred,  after  he  was  king,  accounts 
of  it  were  read  to  him  by  his  desire."  That  gives  one  a  fine 
image  of  a  king  taking  his  recreation — at  ease  in  a  royal  dress- 
ing-gown— too  ma  estic  to  read  himself,  ordering  the  prime  min- 
ister to  read  him  accounts  of  battles  :  how  Cribb  punched  Moly- 
neux's  eye,  or  Jack  Randall  thrashed  the  Game  Chicken. 

Where  my  prince  did  actually  distinguish  himself  was  in  driv- 
ing. He  drove  once  in  four  hours  and  a  half  from  Brighton  to 
Carlton  House — fifty-six  miles.  All  the  young  men  of  that  day 
were  fond  of  that  sport.  But  the  fashion  of  rapid  driving  de- 
serted England,  and,  I  believe,  trotted  over  to  America.  Where 
are  the  amusements  of  our  youth  ?  I  hear  of  no  gambling  now 
but  among  obscure  ruffians — of  no  boxing  but  among  the  lowest 
rabble.  One  solitary  four-in-hand  still  drove  round  the  parks  in 
London  last  year ;  but  that  charioteer  must  soon  disappear.  He 
was  very  old ;  he  was  attired  after  the  fashion  of  the  year  1825. 
He  must  drive  to  the  banks  of  Styx  ere  long,  where  the  ferry- 
boat waits  to  carry  him  over  to  the  defunct  revelers  who  boxed, 
and  gambled,  and  drank,  and  drove  with  King  George. 

The  bravery  of  the  Brunswicks,  that  all  die  family  must  have 
it,  that  George  possessed  it,  are  points  which  all  English  writers 
have  agreed  to  admit;   and  yet  1  can  not  see  how  George  IV. 


94  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

should  have  been  endowed  with  this  quality.  Swaddled  in 
feather-beds  all  his  life,  lazy,  obese,  perpetually  eating  and  drink- 
ing, his  education  was  quite  unlike  that  of  his  tough  old  progen- 
itors. His  grandsires  had  confronted  hardship  and  war,  and 
ridden  up  and  fired  their  pistols  undaunted  into  the  face  of  death. 
His  father  had  conquered  luxury,  and  overcome  indolence. 
Here  was  one  who  never  resisted  any  temptation ;  never  had  a 
desire  but  he  coddled  and  pampered  it;  if  ever  he  had  any 
nerve,  frittered  it  away  among  cooks,  and  tailors,  and  barbers, 
and  furniture-mongers,  and  opera  dancers.  What  muscle  would 
not  grow  flaccid  in  such  a  life — a  life  that  was  never  strung  up 
to  any  action — an  endless  Capua  without  any  campaign — all  fid- 
dling, and  flowers,  and  feasting,  and  flattery,  and  folly?  When 
George  III.  was  pressed  by  the  Catholic  question  and  the  India 
Bill,  he  said  he  would  retire  to  Hanover  rather  than  yield  upon 
either  point;  and  he  would  have  done  what  he  said.  But,  before 
yielding,  he  was  determined  to  fight  his  ministers  and  parlia- 
ment ;  and  he  did,  and  he  beat  them.  The  time  came  when 
George  IV.  was  pressed  too  upon  the  Catholic  claims :  the  cau- 
tious Peel  had  slipped  over  to  that  side :  the  grim  old  Wellington 
had  joined  it ;  and  Peel  tells  us,  in  his  Memoirs,  what  was  the 
conduct  of  the  king.  He  at  first  refused  to  submit;  whereupon 
Peel  and  the  duke  offered  their  resignations,  which  their  gracious 
master  accepted.  He  did  these  two  gentlemen  the  honor,  Peel 
says,  to  kiss  them  both  when  they  went  away.  (Fancy  old  Ar- 
thur's grim  countenance  and  eagle  beak  as  the  monarch  kisses 
it !)  When  they  were  gone  he  sent  after  them,  surrendered,  and 
wrote  to  them  a  letter  begging  them  to  remain  in  office,  and 
allowing  them  to  have  their  way.  Then  his  majesty  had  a  meet- 
ing with  Eldon,  which  is  related  at  curious  length  in  the  latter's 
Memoirs.  He  told  Eldon  what  was  not  true  about  his  interview 
with  the  new  Catholic  converts ;  utterly  misled  the  old  ex-chan- 
cellor ;  cried,  whimpered,  fell  on  his  neck,  and  kissed  him  too. 
We  know  old  Eldon's  own  tears  were  pumped  very  freely.  Did 
these  two  fountains  gush  together?  I  can't  fancy  a  behavior 
more  unmanly,  imbecile,  pitiable.  This  a  defender  of  the  faith  ! 
This  a  chief  in  the  crisis  of  a  great  nation  !  This  an  inheritor  of 
the  courage  of  the  Georges ! 

Many  of  my  hearers  no  doubt  have  journeyed  to  the  pretty 
old  town  of  Brunswick,  in  company  with  that  most  worthy, 


GEORGE   TIIE   FOURTH.  95 

prudent,  and  polite  gentleman,  the  Earl  of  Malmesbury,  and 
fetched  away  Princess  Caroline  for  her  longing  husband,  the 
Prince  of  Wales.  Old  Queen  Charlotte  would  have  had  her 
eldest  son  marry  a  niece  of  her  own,  the  famous  Louisa  of 
Strelitz,  afterward  Queen  of  Prussia,  and  who  shares  with  Marie 
Antoinette  in  the  last  age  the  sad  preeminence  of  beauty  and 
misfortune.  But  George  III.  had  a  niece  at  Brunswick ;  she 
was  a  richer  princess  than  her  Serene  Highness  of  Strelitz :  in 
fine,  the  Princess  Caroline  was  selected  to  marry  the  heir  to 
the  English  throne.  We  follow  my  Lord  Malmesbury  in  quest 
of  her ;  we  are  introduced  to  her  illustrious  father  and  royal 
mother;  we  witness  the  balls  and  fetes  of  the  old  court :  we  are 
presented  to  the  princess  herself,  with  her  fair  hair,  her  blue  eyes, 
and  her  impertinent  shoulders — a  lively,  bouncing,  romping  prin- 
cess, who  takes  the  advice  of  her  courtly  English  mentor  most 
generously  and  kindly.  We  can  be  present  at  her  very  toilet,  if 
we  like,  regarding  which,  and  for  very  good  reasons,  the  British 
courtier  implores  her  to  be  particular.  What  a  strange  court! 
What  a  queer  privacy  of  morals  and  manners  do  we  look  into  1 
Shall  we  regard  it  as  preachers  and  moralists,  and  cry,  Woe, 
against  the  open  vice  and  selfishness  and  corruption  ;  or  look  at 
it  as  we  do  at  the  king  in  the  pantomime,  with  his  pantomime 
wife,  and  pantomime  courtiers,  whose  big  heads  he  knocks 
together,  whom  he  pokes  with  his  pantomime  scepter,  whom  he 
orders  to  prison  under  the  guard  of  his  pantomime  beef-eaters, 
as  he  sits  down  to  dine  on  his  pantomime  pudding?  It  is  grave, 
it  is  sad,  it  is  theme  most  curious  for  moral  and  political  specula- 
tion ;  it  is  monstrous,  grotesque,  laughable,  with  its  prodigious 
littlenesses,  etiquettes,  ceremonials,  sham  moralities;  it  is  as  se- 
rious as  a  sermon,  and  as  absurd  and  outrageous  as  Punch's  pup- 
pet-show. 

Malmesbury  tells  us  of  the  private  life  of  the  duke,  Princess 
Caroline's  father,  who  was  to  die,  like  his  warlike  son,  in  arms 
against  the  French  ;  presents  us  to  his  courtiers,  his  favorite  ;  his 
duchess,  George  III.'s  sister,  a  grim  old  princess,  who  took  the 
British  envoy  aside  and  told  him  wicked  old  stories  of  wicked 
old  dead  people  and  times;  who  came  to  England  afterward 
when  her  nephew  was  regent,  and  lived  in  a  shabby  furnished 
lodging,  old,  and  dingy,  and  deserted,  and  grotesque,  but  some- 
how royal.     And  we  go  with  him  to  the  duke  to  demand  the 


96  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

princess's  hand  in  form,  and  we  hear  the  Brunswick  guns  fire 
their  adieux  of  salute,  as  H.R.H.  the  Princess  of  Wales  departs 
in  the  frost  and  snow ;  and  we  visit  the  domains  of  the  Prince 
Bishop  of  Osnaburg — the  Duke  of  York  of  our  early  time ;  and 
we  dodge  about  from  the  French  revolutionists,  whose  ragged 
legions  are  pouring  over  Holland  and  Germany,  and  gayly 
trampling  clown  the  old  world  to  the  tune  of  ga  ira ;  and  we 
take  shipping  at  Slade,  and  we  land  at  Greenwich,  where  the 
princess's  ladies  and  the  prince's  ladies  are  in  waiting  to  receive 
her  royal  highness. 

What  a  history  follows  !  Arrived  in  London,  the  bridegroom 
hastened  eagerly  to  receive  his  bride.  When  she  was  first  pre- 
sented to  him,  Lord  Malmcsbury  says  she  very  properly  at- 
tempted to  kneel.  He  raised  her  gracefully  enough,  embraced 
her,  and  turning  round  to  me,  said, 

"Harris,  I  am  not  Avell ;  pray  get  me  a  glass  of  brandy." 
I  said,  "Sir,  had  you  not  better  have  a  glass  of  water?" 
Upon  which,  much  out  of  humor,  he  said,  with  an  oath,  "No; 
I  will  go  to  the  queen." 

What  could  be  expected  from  a  wedding  which  had  such  a  be- 
ginning— from  such  a  bridegroom  and  such  a  bride  ?  I  am  not 
going  to  carry  you  through  the  scandal  of  that  story,  or  follow 
the  poor  princess  through  all  her  vagaries;  her  balls  and  her 
dances,  her  travels  to  Jerusalem  and  Naples,  her  jigs  and  her 
junketings  and  her  tears.  As  I  read  her  trial  in  history,  I  vote 
she  is  not  guilty.  I  don't  say  it  is  an  impartial  verdict;  but  as 
one  reads  her  story  the  heart  bleeds  for  the  kindly,  generous, 
outraged  creature.  If  wrong  there  be,  let  it  lie  at  his  door  who 
wickedly  thrust  her  from  it.  Spite  of  her  follies,  the  great 
hearty  people  of  England  loved,  and  protected,  and  pitied  her. 
"  God  bless  you  1  we  will  bring  your  husband  back  to  you,"  said 
a  mechanic  one  day,  as  she  told  Lady  Charlotte  Bury  with  tears 
streaming  down  her  cheeks.  They  could  not  bring  that  husband 
back ;  they  could  not  cleanse  that  selfish  heart.  Was  hers  the 
only  one  he  had  wounded  ?  Steeped  in  selfishness,  impotent  for 
faithful  attachment  and  manly  enduring  love — had  it  not  sur- 
vived remorse,  was  it  not  accustomed  to  desertion  ? 

Malmesbury  gives  us  the  beginning  of  the  marriage  story  ; — 
how  the  prince  reeled  into  chapel  to  be  married  ;  how  he  hic- 
coughed out  his  vows  of  fidelity — you  know  how  he  kept  them; 


GEORGE  THE   FOURTH.  97 

how  he  pursued  the  woman  whom  he  had  married;  to  what  a 
state  he  brought  her ;  with  what  blows  he  struck  her ;  with 
what  malignity  he  pursued  her ;  what  his  treatment  of  his  daugh- 
ter was;  and  what  his  own  life.  He  the  first  gentleman  of 
Europe !  There  is  no  stronger  satire  on  the  proud  English 
society  of  that  day  than  that  they  admired  George. 

No,  thank  God,  we  can  tell  of  better  gentlemen ;  and  while 
our  eyes  turn  away,  shocked,  from  this  monstrous  image  of 
pride,  vanity,  weakness,  they  may  see  in  that  England  over 
which  the  last  George  pretended  to  reign  some  who  merit  in- 
deed the  title  of  gentlemen,  some  who  make  our  hearts  beat 
when  we  hear  their  names,  and  whose  memory  we  fondly  salute 
when  that  of  yonder  imperial  manikin  is  tumbled  into  oblivion. 
I  will  take  men  of  my  own  profession,  of  letters.  I  will  take 
Walter  Scott,  who  loved  the  king,  and  who  was  his  sword  and 
buckler,  and  championed  him  like  that  brave  Highlander  in  his 
own  story,  who  fights  round  his  craven  chief.  What  a  good 
gentleman  !  What  a  friendly  soul,  what  a  generous  hand, 
what  an  amiable  life  was  that  of  the  noble  Sir  Walter !  I 
will  take  another  man  of  letters,  whose  life  I  admire  even 
more — an  English  worthy,  doing  his  duty  for  fifty  noble  years 
of  labor,  day  by  day  storing  up  learning,  day  by  day  work- 
ing for  scant  wages,  most  charitable  out  of  his  small  means, 
bravely  faithful  to  the  calling  which  he  had  chosen,  refus- 
ing to  turn  from  his  path  for  popular  praise  or  prince's  favor 
— I  mean  Robert  Southey.  We  have  left  his  old  political  land- 
marks miles  and  miles  behind :  we  protest  against  his  dogmat- 
ism ;  nay,  we  begin  to  forget  it  and  his  polities  :  but  I  hope  his 
life  will  not  be  forgotten,  for  it  is  sublime  in  its  simplicity,  its 
energy,  its  honor,  its  affection.  In  the  combat  between  Time 
and  Thalaba,  I  suspect  the  former  destroyer  has  conquered. 
Kehama's  curse  frightens  very  few  readers  now ;  but  Southey's 
private  letters  are  worth  piles  of  epics,  and  are  sure  to  last 
among  us  as  long  as  kind  hearts  like  to  sympathize  with  good- 
ness and  purity,  and  love  an  upright  life.  "If  your  feelings  are 
like  mine,"  he  writes  to  his  wife,  "  I  will  not  go  to  Lisbon  with- 
out you,  or  I  will  stay  at  home,  and  not  part  from  you.  Eor 
though  not  unhappy  when  away,  still  without  you  I  am  not 
happy.  For  your  sake,  as  well  as  my  own  and  little  Edith's,  I 
will  not  consent  to  any  separation  ;  the  growth  of  a  year's  love 

5 


98  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

between  her  and  me,  if  it  please  God  she  should  live,  is  a  thing 
too  delightful  in  itself,  and  too  valuable  its  consequences,  to  be 
given  up  for  any  light  inconvenience  on  your  part  or  mine.  .  . 
On  these  tilings  we  will  talk  at  leisure ;  only,  dear,  dear  Edith, 
we  must  not  part  I 

This  was  a  poor  literary  gentleman.  The  First  Gentleman  in 
Europe  had  a  wife  and  daughter  too.  Did  he  love  them  so  ? 
Was  he  faithful  to  them  ?  Did  he  sacrifice  ease  for  them,  or  show 
them  the  sacred  examples  of  religion  and  honor  ?  Heaven  gave 
the  Great  English  Prodigal  no  such  good  fortune.  Peel  proposed 
to  make  a  baronet  of  Southey;  and  to  this  advancement  the 
king  agreed.     The  poet  nobly  rejected  the  offered  promotion. 

"  I  have,"  he  wrote,  "  a  pension  of  two  hundred  pounds  a 
year,  conferred  upon  me  by  the  good  offices  of  my  old  friend  C. 
Wynn,  and  I  have  the  laureateship.  The  salary  of  the  latter  was 
immediately  appropriated,  as  far  as  it  went,  to  a  life-insurance 
of  three  thousand  pounds,  which,  with  an  earlier  insurance,  is 
the  sole  provision  I  have  made  for  my  family.  All  beyond  must 
be  derived  from  my  own  industry.  Writing  for  a  livelihood,  a 
livelihood  is  all  that  I  have  gained ;  for,  having  also  something 
better  in  view,  and  never,  therefore,  having  courted  popularity, 
nor  written  for  the  mere  sake  of  gain,  it  has  not  been  possible 
for  me  to  lay  by  any  thing.  Last  year,  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  I  was  provided  with  a  year's  expenditure  beforehand.  This 
exposition  may  show  how  unbecoming  and  unwise  it  would  be 
to  accept  the  rank  which,  so  greatly  to  my  honor,  you  have 
solicited  for  me." 

How  noble  his  poverty  is  compared  to  the  wealth  of  his 
master  !  His  acceptance  even  of  a  pension  was  made  the  object 
of  his  opponents'  satire :  but  think  of  the  merit  and  modesty  of 
this  State  pensioner  ;  and  that  other  enormous  drawer  of  public 
money,  who  receives  one  hundred  thousand  pounds  a  year,  and 
comes  to  Parliament  with  a  request  for  six  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  pounds  more ! 

Another  true  knight  of  those  days  was  Cuthbert  Collingwood ; 
and  I  think,  since  Heaven  made  gentlemen,  there  is  no  record  of 
a  better  one  than  that.  Of  brighter  deeds,  I  grant  you,  we  may 
read  performed  by  others ;  but  where  of  a  nobler,  kinder,  more 
beautiful  life  of  duty,  of  a  gentler,  truer  heart  ?  Beyond  dazzle 
of  success  and  blaze  of  genius,  I  fancy  shining  a  hundred  and  a 


GEORGE   THE    FOURTH.  99 

hundred  times  higher  the  sublime  purity  of  Collin  gwood's  gentle 
glory.  His  heroism  stirs  British  hearts  when  we  recall  it.  His 
love,  and  goodness,  and  piety  make  one  thrill  with  happy  emo- 
tion. As  one  reads  of  him  and  his  great  comrade  going  into 
the  victory  with  which  their  names  are  immortally  connected, 
how  the  old  English  word  comes  up,  and  that  old  English  feel- 
ing of  what  I  should  like  to  call  Christian  honor  I  What  gentle- 
men they  were,  what  great  hearts  they  had !  "We  can,  my 
dear  Coll,"  writes  Nelson  to  him,  "  have  no  little  jealousies ;  we 
have  only  one  great  object  in  view — that  of  meeting  the  enemy, 
and  getting  a  glorious  peace  for  our  country."  At  Trafalgar, 
when  the  Royal  Sovereign  was  pressing  alone  into  the  midst  of 
the  combined  fleets,  Lord  Nelson  said  to  Captain  Blackwood, 
"  See  how  that  noble  fellow,  Collingwood,  takes  his  ship  into 
action !  How  I  envy  him !"  The  very  same  throb  and  impulse 
of  heroic  generosity  was  beating  in  Collingwood's  honest  bosom. 
As  he  led  into  the  fight,  he  said,  "  What  would  Nelson  give  to 
be  here  1" 

After  the  action  of  the  1st  of  June  he  writes :  "  We  cruised 
for  a  few  days,  like  disappointed  people  looking  for  what  they 
could  not  find,  until  the  morning  of  little  Sarah's  hirthday,  between 
eight  and  nine  o'clock,  when  the  French  fleet,  of  twenty-five  sail 
of  the  fine,  was  discovered  to  windward.  We  chased  them,  and 
they  bore  down  within  about  five  miles  of  us.  The  night  was 
spent  in  watching  and  preparation  for  the  succeeding  day ;  and 
many  a  blessing  did  I  send  forth  to  my  Sarah,  lest  I  should  never 
bless  her  more.  At  dawn  we  made  our  approach  on  the  enemy, 
then  drew  up,  dressed  our  ranks,  and  it  was  about  eight  when 
the  admiral  made  the  signal  for  each  ship  to  engage  her  oppo- 
nent, and  bring  her  to  close  action ;  and  then  down  we  went 
under  a  crowd  of  sail,  and  in  a  manner  that  would  have  animated 
the  coldest  heart,  and  struck  terror  into  the  most  intrepid  enemy. 
The  ship  we  were  to  engage  was  two  ahead  of  the  French  ad- 
miral, so  that  we  had  to  go  through  his  fire  and  that  of  two  ships 
next  to  him,  and  received  all  their  broadsides,  two  or  three  times, 
before  we  fired  a  gun.  It  was  then  near  ten  o'clock.  I  observed 
to  the  admiral,  that  about  that  time  our  wives  were  going  to 
church,  but  that  I  thought  the  peal  we  should  ring  about  the 
Frenchman's  ears  would  outdo  their  parish  bells." 

There  are  no  words  to  tell  what  the  heart  feels  in  reading  the 


100  THE  FOUR  GEORGES. 

simple  phrases  ot  such  a  hero.  Here  is  victory  and  courage,  but 
love  sublimer  and  superior.  Here  is  the  Christian  soldier  spend- 
ing the  night  before  battle  in  watching  and  preparing  for  the 
succeeding  day,  thinking  of  his  dearest  home,  and  sending  many 
blessings  forth  to  his  Sarah,  "  lest  he  should  never  bless  her 
more."  Who  would  not  say  Amen  to  his  supplication  ?  It  was 
a  benediction  to  his  country — the  prayer  of  that  intrepid,  loving 
heart. 

"We  have  spoken  of  a  good  soldier  and  good  men  of  letters  as 
specimens  of  English  gentlemen  of  the  age  just  past :  may  we 
not  also — many  of  my  elder  hearers,  I  am  sure,  have  read,  and 
fondly  remember  his  delightful  story — speak  of  a  good  divine, 
and  mention  Reginald  Heber  as  one  of  the  best  of  English  gen- 
tlemen ?  The  charming  poet,  the  happy  possessor  of  all  sorts  of 
gifts  and  accomplishments,  birth,  wit,  fame,  high  character,  com- 
petence— he  was  the  beloved  parish  priest  in  his  own  home  of 
Hoderel,  "  counseling  his  people  in  their  troubles,  advising  them 
in  their  difficulties,  comforting  them  in  distress,  kneeling  often  at 
their  sick  beds  at  the  hazard  of  his  own  life ;  exhorting,  encourag- 
ing where  there  was  need ;  where  there  was  strife  the  peace- 
maker ;  where  there  was  want  the  free  giver." 

When  the  Indian  bishopric  was  offered  to  him  he  refused  at 
first ;  but  after  communing  with  himself  (and  committing  his  case 
to  the  quarter  whither  such  pious  men  are  wont  to  carry  their 
doubts),  he  withdrew  his  refusal,  and  prepared  himself  for  his 
mission,  and  to  leave  his  beloved  parish!  "  Little  children,  love 
one  another,  and  forgive  one  another,"  were  the  last  sacred  words 
he  said  to  his  weeping  people.  He  parted  with  them,  knowing, 
perhaps,  he  should  see  them  no  more.  Like  those  other  good 
men  of  whom  we  have  just  spoken,  love  and  duty  were  his  life's 
aim.  Happy  he,  happy  they  who  were  so  gloriously  faithful  to 
both !  He  writes  to  his  wife  those  charming  lines  on  his 
journey : 

"  If  thou,  my  love,  wert  by  my  side, 
My  babies  at  my  knee, 
How  gladly  would  our  pinnace  glide 
O'er  Gunga's  mimic  sea! 

"  I  miss  thee  at  the  dawning  gray, 
When,  on  our  deck  reclined, 
In  careless  ease  my  limbs  I  lay 
And  woo  the  cooler  wind. 


GEORGE  THE   FOURTH.  101 

"I  miss  thee  when  by  Gunga's  stream 
My  twilight  steps  I  guide  ; 
But  most  beneath  the  lamp's  pale  beam 
I  miss  thee  by  my  side. 

"  I  spread  my  books,  my  pencil  try, 
The  lingering  noon  to  cheer ; 
But  miss  thy  kind,  approving  eye, 
Thy  meek,  attentive  ear. 

"  But  when  of  morn  and  eve  the  star 
Beholds  me  on  my  knee, 
I  feel,  though  thou  art  distant  far, 
Thy  prayers  ascend  for  me. 

"  Then  on,  then  on,  where  duty  leada 
My  course  be  onward  still — 
O'er  broad  Hindostan's  sultry  meads, 
O'er  bleak  Almorah's  hilL 

"That  course  nor  Delhi's  kingly  gates, 
Nor  wild  Malwah  detain, 
For  sweet  the  bliss  us  both  awaits 
By  yonder  western  main. 

"  Thy  towers,  Bombay,  gleam  bright,  they  say, 
Across  the  dark  blue  sea; 
But  ne'er  were  hearts  so  blithe  and  gay 
As  there  shall  meet  in  thee  I" 

Is  it  not  Collingwood  and  Sarah,  and  Southey  and  Edith  ?  His 
affection  is  part  of  his  life.  What  were  life  without  it  ?  Without 
love,  I  can  fancy  no  gentleman. 

How  touching  is  a  remark  Heber  makes  in  his  Travels  through 
India,  that  on  inquiring  of  the  natives  at  a  town  which  of  the 
governors  of  India  stood  highest  in  the  opinion  of  the  people,  he 
found  that  though  Lord  Wellesley  and  Warren  Hastings  were 
honored  as  the  two  greatest  men  who  ever  ruled  this  part  of  the 
world,  the  people  spoke  with  chief  affection  of  Judge  Cleaveland, 
who  had  died,  aged  twenty-nine,  in  1784.  The  people  have 
built  a  monument  over  him,  and  still  hold  a  religious  feast  in  his 
memory.  So  does  his  own  country  still  tend  with  a  heart's 
regard  the  memory  of  the  gentle  Heber. 

And  Cleaveland  died  in  1784,  and  is  still  loved  by  the  heathen, 
is  he?  Why,  that  year  1784  was  remarkable  in  the  life  of  our 
friend  the  First  Gentleman  of  Europe.  Do  you  not  know  that 
he  was  twenty-one  in  that  year,  and  opened  Carlton  House  witli 
a  grand  ball  to  the  nobility  aud  gentry,  and  doubtless  wore  that 


102  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

lovely  pink  coat  which  we  have  described.  I  was  eager  to 
read  about  the  ball,  and  looked  to  the  old  magazines  for  infor- 
mation. The  entertainment  took  place  on  the  10th  February. 
In  the  European  Magazine  of  March,  1784,  I  came  straightway 
upon  it : 

"  The  alterations  at  Carlton  House  being  finished,  we  lay 
before  our  readers  a  description  of  the  state  apartments  as  they 
appeared  on  the  10th  instant,  when  H.R.H.  gave  a  grand  ball  to 

the  principal  nobility  and  gentry The  entrance  to  the 

state  room  fills  the  mind  with  an  inexpressible  idea  of  greatness 
and  splendor. 

"  The  state  chair  is  of  a  gold  frame,  covered  with  crimson 
damask ;  on  each  corner  of  the  feet  is  a  lion's  head,  expressive 
of  fortitude  and  strength ;  the  feet  of  the  chair  have  serpents 
twining  round  them,  to  denote  wisdom.  Facing  the  throne 
appears  the  helmet  of  Minerva ;  and  over  the  windows  glory  is 
represented  by  a  Saint  George  with  a  superb  gloria. 

"  But  the  saloon  may  be  styled  the  chef-d'oeuvre,  and  in  every 
ornament  discovers  great  invention.  It  is  hung  with  a  figured 
lemon  satin.  The  window  curtains,  sofas,  and  chairs  are  of  the 
same  color.  The  ceiling  is  ornamented  with  emblematical  paint- 
ings, representing  the  Graces  and  Muses,  together  with  Jupiter, 
Mercury,  Apollo,  and  Paris.  Two  ormolu  chandeliers  are  placed 
here.  It  is  impossible  by  expression  to  do  justice  to  the  extra- 
ordinary workmanship,  as  well  as  design,  of  the  ornaments. 
They  each  consist  of  a  palm,  branching  out  in  five  directions  for 
the  reception  of  fights.  A  beautiful  figure  of  a  rural  nymph  is 
represented  entwining  the  stems  of  the  tree  with  wreaths  of 
flowers.  In  the  center  of  the  room  is  a  rich  chandelier.  To  see 
this  apartment  dans  son  plus  beau  jour,  it  should  be  viewed  in 
the  glass  over  the  chimney-piece.  The  range  of  apartments  from 
ihe  saloon  to  the  ball-room,  when  the  doors  are  open,  formed 
one  of  the  grandest  spectacles  that  ever  was  beheld." 

In  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  for  the  very  same  month  and 
year — March,  1784 — is  an  account  of  another  festival,  in  which 
another  great  gentleman  of  English  extraction  is  represented  as 
taking  a  principal  share  : 

"  According  to  order,  H.E.  the  Commander-in-Chief  was 
■  idmitted  to  a  public  audience  of  Congress;  and,  being  seated, 
the  president,  after  a  pause,  informed  him  that  the  United  States 


GEORGE   THE    FOURTH.  103 

assembled  were  ready  to  receive  his  communications.  Where- 
upon he  arose,  and  spoke  as  follows : 

"  '  Mr.  President, — The  great  events  on  which  my  resignation 
depended  having  at  length  taken  place,  I  present  myself  before 
Congress  to  surrender  into  their  hands  the  trust  committed  to 
me,  and  to  claim  the  indulgence  of  retiring  from  the  service  of 
my  country. 

"  '  Happy  in  the  confirmation  of  our  independence  and  sove- 
reignty, I  resign  the  appointment  I  accepted  with  diffidence; 
which,  however,  was  superseded  by  a  confidence  in  the  rectitude 
of  our  cause,  the  support  of  the  supreme  power  of  the  nation, 
and  the  patronage  of  Heaven.  I  close  this  last  act  of  my  official 
life,  by  commending  the  interests  of  our  dearest  country  to  the 
protection  of  Almighty  God,  and  those  who  have  the  superin- 
tendence of  them  to  His  holy  keeping.  Having  finished  the 
work  assigned  me,  I  retire  from  the  great  theater  of  action ;  and, 
bidding  an  affectionate  farewell  to  this  august  body,  under  whose 
orders  I  have  so  long  acted,  I  here  offer  my  commission  and  take 
my  leave  of  the  employments  of  my  public  life.'  To  which  the 
president  replied  : 

"  '  Sir,  having  defended  the  standard  of  liberty  in  the  New 
World,  having  taught  a  lesson  useful  to  those  who  inflict,  and 
those  who  feel  oppression,  you  retire  with  the  blessings  of  your 
fellow-citizens  ;  though  the  glory  of  your  virtues  will  not  termi- 
nate with  your  military  command,  but  will  descend  to  remotest 
ages.'  " 

Which  was  the  most  splendid  spectacle  ever  witnessed — the 
opening  feast  of  Prince  George  in  London,  or  the  resignation  of 
Washington  ?  Which  is  the  noble  character  for  after-ages  to 
admire — yon  fribble  dancing  in  lace  and  spangles,  or  yonder  hero 
who  sheathes  his  sword  after  a  life  of  spotless  honor,  a  purity 
unreproached,  a  courage  indomitable,  and  a  consummate  vic- 
tory ?  Which  of  these  is  the  true  gentleman  ?  What  is  it  to  be 
a  gentleman  ?  Is  it  to  have  lofty  aims,  to  lead  a  pure  life,  to 
keep  your  honor  virgin ;  to  have  the  esteem  of  your  fellow-citi- 
zens, and  the  love  of  your  fireside ;  to  bear  good  fortune  meekly ; 
to  suffer  evil  with  constancy;  and  through  evil  or  good  to  main- 
tain truth  always  ?  Show  me  the  happy  man  whose  life  exhibits 
these  qualities,  and  him  we  will  salute  as  gentleman,  whatever 
his  rank  may  be ;  show  me  the  prince  who  possesses  them,  and 


104  THE   FOUR   GEORGES. 

he  may  be  sure  of  our  love  and  loyalty.  The  heart  of  Britain 
still  beats  kindly  for  George  III. — not  because  he  was  wise  and 
just,  but  because  he  was  pure  in  life,  honest  in  intent,  and 
because  according  to  his  lights  he  worshiped  Heaven.  I  think 
we  acknowledge  in  the  inheritrix  of  his  scepter  a  wiser  rule  and 
a  life  as  honorable  and  pure ;  and  I  am  sure  the  future  painter 
of  our  manners  will  pay  a  willing  allegiance  to  that  good  life, 
and  be  loyal  to  the  memory  of  that  unsullied  virtue. 


THE  END. 


HOME  INSURANCE  COMPANY 

OF    NEW    YORK. 


OFFICE,    112   &    114   BROADWAY. 


This  Company  continues  to  insure  Buildings,  Furniture,  etc.,  against 
Loss  or  Damage  by  Fire,  on  favorable  terms. 

Cash  Capital One  Million  Dollars. 

Assets,  July  1,  1860 $1,481,819.27 

Liabilities 54,058.67 

DIRECTORS. 


"William  G-.  Lambert, 
George  C.  Collins, 
Danford  N.  Barney, 
Lucius  Hopkins, 
Thomas  Messenger, 
William  H.  Mellen, 
Charles  J.  Martin, 
Charles  B.  Hatch, 
B.  "Watson  Bull, 
Homer  Morgan, 
Levi  P.  Stone, 
James  Humphrey, 
George  Pearce, 
"Ward  A.  "Work, 
James  Low, 
A.  J.  Wills, 
William  H.  Townsend, 
I.  H.  Frothingham, 
Charles  A.  Bulkley, 
Richard  Bigelow, 
George  D.  Morgan, 
Theo.  McNamee, 
Cephas  H.  Norton, 


Oliver  E.  Wood, 
Alfred  S.  Barnes, 
George  Bliss, 
Roe  Lockwood, 
Levi  P.  Morton, 
Curtis  Noble, 
John  B.  Hutchinson, 
Samuel  B.  Caldwell, 
Charles  P.  Baldwin, 
Amos  D.  Dwight, 
H.  A.  Hurlbut, 
Jesse  Hoyt, 
William  Sturgis,  Jr. 
John  R.  Ford, 
George  T.  Stedman, 
Sidney  Mason, 
A.  F.  Wilmarth, 
Cyrus  Yale,  Jr., 
F.  H.  Cossitt, 
W.  R.  Fosdick, 
David  I.  Boyd, 
Lewis  Roberts. 


CHARLES  J.  MARTIN,  President 
A.  F.  WILMARTH,  Vice-President. 


J.  Milton  Smith,  Secretary. 
John  McGee,  Assistant  Seer 


etary. 


THE   METROPOLITAN 


FIRE  INSURANCE  COMPANY, 

NO.  108  BROADWAY,  CORNER  OF  PINE  ST. 


CASH   CAPITAL,   $300,000. 


This  Company,  having  a  Cash  Capital  exceeded  by  those  of  only 
three  other  City  Companies,  continues  to  insure  all  kinds  of 

PERSONAL  PROPERTY,  BUILDINGS, 

SHIPS  IN  PORT  AND  THEIR  CARGOES, 

On  terms  as  low  as  are  consistent  with  the  security  of  the  Insurers  and 
Insured. 


DIRECTORS. 

JAMES  LORIMER  GRAHAM,  President. 


Joseph  B.  Varxum, 
Leonard  Appleby, 
Frederick  H.  Wolcott, 
Williaji  K.  Strong, 
Moses  Taylor, 
James  0.  Sheldon, 
Daniel  Parish, 
gustavus  a.  conoyer, 
Martin  Bates,  Jr., 
Dudley  B.  Fuller, 
Charles  L.  Vose, 

Samuel  D. 


Warren  Delano,  Jr., 
Henry  V.  Butler, 
Joseph  B.  Varnum,  Jr., 
James  Lorimer  Graham,  Jr., 
Bowes  R.  McIlvaixe, 
Gilbert  L.  Beeckman, 
John  C.  Henderson, 
Lorrain  Freeman, 
Edward  Macombe, 
Watson  E.  Case, 
Charles  E.  Appleby, 
Bradford,  Jr. 


EDWARD  A.  STANSBURY,  Secretary. 
ROBERT  C    RATHBONE,  Assistant  Secretary. 


GROYER  &  BAKER'S 

CELEBRATED  NOISELESS 

FAMILY  SEWING  MACHINES, 

495  BROADWAY,  NEW  YORK. 


THE  GROVER  &  BAKER  MACHINE 

Is  simple  in  construction,  easily  learned,  and,  with  proper  manage- 
ment, never  gets  out  of  order. 

THE  GROVER  &  BAKER  MACHINE 

Hems,  Fells,  Gathers,  and  Stitches,  and  Fastens  its  own  Seams,  thereby 
saving  time  and  thread. 

THE  GROVER  &  BAKER  MACHINE 

Sews  equally  well  on  all  Fabrics,  from  the  finest  Swiss  Muslin  to  th%, 
heaviest  cloth  or  leather. 

THE  GROVER  &  BAKER  MACHINE 

Sews  from  original  Spools  without  rewinding,  and  forms  a  soam  unsur- 
passed for  beauty,  elasticity,  and  strength. 

THE  GROVER  &  BAKER  STITCH 

Is  the  Double  Lock  Stitch  which  forms  a  seam  that  will  not  rip  even 
if  every  fourth  stitch  is  cut.  It  is  the  only  stitch  that  survives  the 
washing-tub  on  bias  seams. 

THE  GROVER  &  BAKER  MACHINE 

Makes  the  only  seam  formed  by  a  Sewing  Machine,  in  which  each 
stitch  is  independently  locked,  and  without  dependence  upon  the  other 
stitches  for  strength. 

OFFICES    OF    EXHIBITION    AND    SALE. 
495  Broadway,  New  York.     18  Summer-st.,  Boston.     730  Chestnut- 
st.,  Philadelphia.     181  Baltimore-st.,  Baltimore.     58  West  Fourth-st., 
Cincinnati.     124  North  Fourth-st.,  St.  Louis.     115  Lake-st,  Chicago. 
171  Superior-st.,  Cleveland. 

BT     SEND   FOR   A   CIRCULAR.     «J£3 


AYER'S  CATHARTIC  PILLS, 

FOR  THE   CURE   OF 

Costiveness,  Jaundice,  Dyspepsia,  Indigestion,  Dysentery, 
Foul  Stomach,  Erysipelas,  Headache,  Piles,  Rheuma- 
tism,  Eruptions  and  Skin  Diseases,  Liver  Com- 
plaint, Dropsy,  Tetter,  Tumors  and  Salt  Rheum, 
Worms,  Gout,  Neuralgia,  as  a  Dinner 
Pill,  and  for  Purifying  the  Blood. 

Are  you  sick,  feeble,  and  complaining?  Are  you  out  of  order,  with  your  system 
deranged,  and  your  feelings  uncomfortable?  These  symptoms  are  often  the  pre- 
lude to  serious  illness.  Some  fit  of  sickness  is  creeping  upon  you,  and  should  be 
averted  by  a  timely  use  of  the  right  remedy.  Take  AYEK'S  PILLS,  and  cleanse 
out  the  disordered  humors,  purify  the  blood,  and  let  the  fluids  move  on  unob- 
structed in  health  again.  They  stimulate  the  functions  of  the  body  into  vigorous 
activity,  purify  the  system  from  the  obstructions  which  make  disease.  A  cold  set- 
tles somewhere  in  the  body,  and  obstructs  its  natural  functions.  These,  if  not  re- 
lieved, react  upon  themselves  and  the  surrounding  organs,  producing  general 
aggravation,  suffering,  and  disease.  While  in  this  condition,  oppressed  by  the  de- 
rangements, take  AYEK'S  PILLS,  and  see  how  directly  they  restore  the  natural 
action  of  the  system,  and  with  it  the  buoyant  feeling  of  health  again.  What  is 
true  and  so  apparent  in  this  trivial  and  common  complaint,  is  also  true  in  many 
of  the  deep-seated  and  dangerous  distempers.  The  same  purgative  effect  expels 
them.  Caused  by  similar  obstructions  and  derangements  of  the  natural  functions 
of  the  body,  they  are  rapidly,  and  many  of  them  surely,  cured  by  tiie  same  means. 
None  who  know  the  virtues  of  these  Pills  will  neglect  to  employ  them  when  suf- 
fering from  the  disorders  they  cure. 

Deafness,  Partial  Blindness,  Fits,  Paralysis,  or  Palsy,  St.  Vitus's  Dance, 
Suppression,  and  other  complaints  it  would  not  be  supposed  they  could  reach, 
have  been  cured  by  the  renovating  action  of  these  Pills  upon  the  whole  system, 
and  the  resuscitation  they  afford  to  the  general  health.  Their  virtues  penetrate 
to  the  fountains  of  the  blood,  and  thus  effect  cures  which  could  not  be  believed 
if  they  had  not  been  proven.  All  who  use  them  can  see  they  have  curative  quali- 
ties equaled  by  nothing  which  has  been  known  before,  and  are  astonished  to  find 
a  medicine  of  such  wonderful  power  over  disease,  which  is  harmless— perfectly 
harmless,  even  to  infants. 

They  are  not  only  the  best,  but  they  are  the  cheapest  Pill  there  is  sold,  be- 
cause in  them  the  consumer  gets  the  most  for  his  money. 

Unprincipled  dealers  may  try  to  urge  upon  you  other  Pills  they  may  make  more 
profit  on  ;  but  do  not  be  misled.  Ask  for  AYEE'S  CATHARTIC  PILLS,  and 
take  no  others. 

Price  25  cents  per  Box,  or  Five  Boxes  for  $1. 

From  six  physicians  of  distinguished  abilities  and  the  highest  standing  in  the 

central  city  of  Neiu  York. 

Syracuse,  11th  May,  1S54. 

"Dr.  Ayeb: — We  have  given  your  Cathartic  Pills  a  thorough  trial  in  our 
practice,  and  are  well  pleased  with  their  effects.  The  active  principles  of  castor 
oil,  colocynth,  senna,  and  aloes,  of  which  they  are  composed,  make  an  excellent 
combination  of  medicine,  and  well  calculated  for  the  purpose  intended. 

Verv  truly  yours, 
M.  M.  White,  M.D.  A.  B.  Shipman,  M.D.        H.  B.  Moore,  M.D. 

J.  F.  Trowbridge,  M.D.    Jab.  C.  Stewart,  M.D.    M.  W.  Williams,  M.D. 

AYER'S  CHERRY  PECTORAL, 

For  the  rapid  cure  of  Coughs,  Colds,  Influenza,  Hoarseness,  Croup, 
Bronchitis,  Incipient  Consumption,  and  for  the  relief  of  Consump- 
tive Patients,  in  advanced  stages  of  the  disease. 

Prepared  by        DR.  J.  C.  AYER  &  CO.,  Lowell,  Mass. 

Sold  at  Wholesale  and  Retail  by  all  Dealers  in  Medicine  everywhere. 


WHEELER  &  WILSON'S 

SEWING  MACHINES, 

WITH  IMPORTANT  IMPROVEMENTS,  AT  GREATLY  REDUCED  PRICES. 


These  great  Economizers  of  Time,  and  Preservers  of  Health, 

Have  won  the  highest  premiums  at 
the  Fair  of  the  United  Agricultural 
Society ;  at  the  State  Fairs  of  Maine, 
Vermont,  Connecticut,  New  Tork, 
New  Jersey,  Pennsylvania,  Virginia, 
Mississippi,  Missouri,  Ohio,  Indiana, 
Illinois,  Kentucky,  Michigan,  "Wiscon- 
sin, California,  and  at  the  Fairs  of  the 
American  Institute,  New  York;  Me- 
chanics' Association,  Boston ;  Franklin 
Institute,  Philadelphia ;  Mechanics' 
Institute,  Baltimore ;  Metropolitan 
Mechanics'  Institute,  Washington ;  Me- 
chanics' Association,  Cincinnati ;  Ken- 
tucky Institute,  Louisville;  Mechanical 

Association,  St.  Louis ;  Mechanics'  Institute,   San   Francisco ;  and  at 

hundreds  of  County  Fairs. 

OFFICE,   505   BROADWAY,   TV.  Y. 

The  Lock  Stitch  made  by  this  Machine  is  the  only  stitch  that  can  not 
be  raveled,  and  that  presents  the  same  appearance  each  side  of  the 
seam.  It  is  made  with  two  threads,  one  upon  each  side  of  the  fabric, 
and  interlocked  in  the  center  of  it. 

ECONOMY   OF   SEWING   MACHINES. 

The  Wheeler  &  Wilson  Sewing  Machine  Company  has  prepared 
Tables,  shewing,  by  actual  experiment  of  four  different  workers,  the 
time  required  to  stitch  each  part  of  a  garment  by  hand,  and  with  their 
Sewing  Machine.  The  superiority  of  the  work  done  by  the  Machine, 
and  the  healthfulness  of  the  employment,  are  advantages  quite  as  great 
as  the  saving  of  time.    Subjoined  is  a  summary  of  several  of  the  tables  : 


BY  MACHINE.        BY  HAND. 

II' rs.  Mill's.  II' rs.  Mill's. 


Gent's  Shirts.. 
Frock  Coats . . 
Satin  Vests . . 
Linen  "  .. 
Cloth  Pants. . 
Summer  "  . . 
Silk  Dress. . . . 
Merino  Dress . 


.  1 


16 

38 
14 
■IS 
5] 
38 
13 
4 


14 
16 
7 
5 
5 
2 
10 


26 
35 
19 
14 
10 
50 
22 
27 


BY  MACHINE.        BY  HAND. 

//Vs.  Mill's.  H'ra.  M'n's. 


Calico  Dress. . . 

Chemise 1 

Moreen  Skirt . . 
Muslin  "  . . 
Night  Dress..  .1 

Drawers 

Silk  Apron.. . . 
Plain     "     


57 

1 

35 

30 

7 
28 
15 

9 


6 
10 
7 
6 
10 
5 
4 
1 


37 

31 

28 

1 

2 

6 

16 

26 


Seams  of  any  considerable  length  are  stitched,  ordinarily,  at 
the  rate  of  a  yard  a  minute. 


Dft 

H-7S 

ft  T47 

0 


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STAMPED  BELOW. 


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AA    000  775  494 


I 


HOME  INSURANCE  COMPANY 

•       OF    NEW    YORK. 


OFFICE,  .112  &    111   BROADWAY. 


This  Company  co»  tinu.es  to  insure  Buildings  Furniture,  etc.,  ag| 
Lo3S  or  Dam.r;e  by  Fire,  on  favorable  terras. 

Cash  Capital One  Million  Dollars. 

Assets.  July  1,  1860 $1,481,819.2': 

Liabilities 54,058.6"; 


H  j£  C  T  O  R  S  . 


WuKiIam  G.  Lambert, 
George  C.  Collins, 
Danford  N.  Barney, 
Lucius  Hopkins, 
Thomas  Messenger, 
William  H.  Mellen, 
Charles  J.  Mai-tin, 
Charles  B.  Hat<  h, 
B.  Watson  Bull, 
Homer  Morgan, 
Levi  P.  Stone, 
James  Humpurev, 
George  Pe^rce, 
Ward  A.  Work, 
James  Low, 
A.  J.  Wills, 
William  H.  Towvsexd, 
I.  II.  F:.OTniNonAsr, 
Charles  A.  Bulkley, 

RjCHARD  BlGELOW, 

George  D.  Morgan, 
Theo.  McNameb, 
Cephas  H.  Norton. 


Oliver  E.  Wood, 
Alfred  S.  Barnes, 
George  Bliss, 
Hoe  Lockwood, 
Levi  P.  Morton, 
Curtis  Noble, 
John  B.  Hutchinson, 
Samuel  B.  Caldwell, 
Charles  P.  Baldwin, 
A  mos  D.  Dwight, 
H.  A.  Hurlbut, 
Jesse  Hoyt, 
William  Sturgis,  Jr. 
Johm  P~  Ford, 
George  T.  Stedmav, 
Sidney  Mason, 

A .  F.   WlLMARTH, 

CYRrs  Yale,  Jr., 
F.  H.  Cossitt, 
W.  R.  Fosdick, 
David  I.  Boyd, 
Lewis  Roberts. 


CHARLES  J.  MARTIN,  Preside] 
A.  F.  WlLMARTH,  Vice-PresidA 


J.  Milton  Smith,  Secretary. 
John  McGee,  Assistant  Secretary. 


